About a Boy E
by thelovearesick
Summary: He had never been fond of going to such places. The music, the crowd, the noise, and the excess were things he did not tolerate. A passing glimpse of a young man in the crowd catches his interest, and suddenly his beliefs may have begun to turn... Translation: Pegacorn
1. No, I can't see you every night free

_**Pegacorn:** My goal was to use the translation and make it legible. But then I thought, this phrase would sound more natural in English if phrased differently. This led to me making some judgements about how I thought it would sound best. This may have led to some parts sounding kind of like my "style" though I was consciously trying to avoid that._

 _I am also sure there are probably some descriptive and poetic language that was completely lost in translation but I have no way of knowing. I have no idea about grammar in the original work, but I typed this up using "proper" English grammar (my best attempt at least). You may use this as you see fit (change it, post it, discard it). Consider it a gift because I like the story so much and if you at all do want to continue with more translations I'm open to discussing the idea :)_

 _ **Claudy:** I have no way of thanking this talented author for his help in translating this story, even more so as it is not a language that dominates. I am very happy to share this story with people who speak English, hoping that you will enjoy it. I'm very happy with the result. Thank you very much, Pegacorn!_

 _I get strange ideas. What else can I say to those who read my writing? This story was born one night when I would not stop listening to "About A Girl" and I imagined Waylon in full grunge attire dancing to the music, while Eddie looked on in stunned silence from a distance. I find it fun to include Eddie in this type of environment, so out of his element._

 _And what better excuse to add another of my favorite characters who is often underrated: Frank Manera. I notice that the characters are completely out of their canon attitudes. Especially Waylon...and Frank xD I think we need more stories and fanart involving Frank! So without further ado, here's my strange story. Inspired entirely by About a Girl by Nirvana. Dedicated to Velia, who is my Kurt Cobain :3_

* * *

 **Chapter 1: No, I can't see you every night free**

"I do not want to go," was the first thing out of his lips when he heard the invitation-before Frank Manera could even finish his sentence.

"Come on, Ed! It will be fun! I promise that if you get upset or uncomfortable, we can leave. At least make give it a try," said Frank.

"No. I will not go," said Eddie, turning to glare at his friend. Frank sighed. It was very difficult to convince Eddie when he decided to be stubborn.

"Where is your spirit of adventure?" Frank asked. "And why do I even need to convince you to go? You said you were going to take me wherever I needed to go while my motorcycle is in the shop!"

"I never said that," said Eddie. "And if I did say something like that, I meant I would drive you to school, the dentist, or any other important meeting—not one of your crazy parties to hang out with a bunch of thugs."

For a man with such an intimidating face and voice, Eddie Gluskin was nothing more than an old-fashioned gentleman. He felt that anyone living below his standard were nothing but gang-bangers and criminals.

"If you come with me tonight, I promise to go with you to one of your stupid lady shops to drool over wedding dresses," said Frank.

"I told you, those shops are not only for women! Wedding dresses and arrangements are very respected and profitable, Frank. You shouldn't mock me for thinking about my financial future. You could learn a thing or two from visiting these shops," said Eddie. Frank looked away and gave a triumphant smile. Yes, he knew Eddie. He knew that he would give anything for a chance to take Frank window shopping for wedding dresses.

"So what do you say, darling?" Frank asked with a grin. "Walk me to the party?"

"I told you to stop using that word," muttered Eddie. He stood for a moment staring at Frank. It was clear how different they were, despite only being a couple of years apart in age. Sometimes people were astounded to learn that Frank was actually the younger of the two. They were even more shocked that two such different people could get along so well and be such close friends.

"Alright, alright...I know that word is a Gluskin Registered Trademark. Look, I promise you, if you get upset or angry about anything, we can leave, understand? I just want you to get out and relax a bit. What's the harm in kicking back and having fun every now and then?"

Eddie's response was a long-suffering sigh. He never agreed to the plan, but he also did not object. Frank was offering him a reasonable deal. After a considerable amount of time while Eddie finished changing and grooming himself for the outing, the pair set off to the party to fulfill Eddie's portion of the bargain. Frank continued to question Eddie's choice of outfit as they approached their destination.

"There is nothing wrong with my clothing choice," said Eddie, glaring at Frank. He was wearing a long-sleeved buttoned shirt and dress pants. Frank was just grateful that he was not wearing his usual bow tie and vest. Eddie always appeared to be just coming from, or going to, a wedding or formal event.

Their destination was not well-known. It was a small venue, formerly an abandoned building, that was re-opened by one Richard Trager as a night club. Sometimes bands would play, but the club was really more of a dive bar. The windows were broken and the space was too small for the number of people who regularly attended the events. Despite being low-key, the club had become popular with young people from the local high school, many entering with fake ID's.

The smell of smoke and sweat permeated the atmosphere. Eddie's mouth twisted into a grimace upon entering and he cast a disapproving glare at his friend. Frank was one of the most frequent customers to the club and only smiled in response before greeting a couple of girls in black tops and tight pants.

Eddie estimated the women were not over twenty-five years old. One had bottle blond hair with black roots showing and an unruly perm, and the other had short dark hair, the left half completely shaven. The girls looked over Eddie's attire and were unable to keep the small smiles from appearing on their faces. Eddie did not like the looks of those ladies at all, and he found their reaction to his outfit irritating. Both girls seemed to realize this, so they quickly made an excuse about needing to go to the bathroom and said goodbye to Frank.

"Come on Eddie," Frank shouted, "relax a little! We came to have fun!" His comments were drowned out by the music and the crowd. Eddie felt uncomfortable and completely out of place. There was loud music, thick smoke, and far too many people. It was one bad combination after another. Eddie did not bother to complain to Frank because he knew his friend would ignore his complaints, especially considering they had only just arrived.

"I'll get us some beers," Frank shouted over the noise. "Walk around a little, take a tour. Who knows, you might find something to catch your interest."

Frank highly doubted Eddie would find anything to lessen his hatred of the place, but he made a quick get away toward the bar. He actually had bigger plans of using the time alone to scour the club for his old band mates.

Frank had spent many years of his youth, through high school and college, as a member of a thrash metal band. The group had since decided to take a break from making music, leading to Frank's "new life" he had mentioned to Eddie. Frank had played lead guitar and was responsible for composing the majority of the band's songs. The band had even had a couple of shows where they opened for larger, reasonably popular acts. Lately, Frank was focused on ending their break and getting the band back together for an epic reunion.

Eddie followed Frank's terrible advice and ended up walking around the perimeter of the crowded club, a weary expression on his face. It was obvious to Eddie that most of the attendees of the club were not over eighteen. Most people in the crowd were loud and obnoxious, puffing away on cigarettes and spilling their cheap beers.

At one point, Eddie was sure he detected the aroma of marijuana. His response was an immediate frown. Eddie thought there was nothing more pathetic than requiring the use of substances to appear mature. He thought the club was comprised completely of superficial and frivolous people—the type of people not worth a moment of his time. They were all sad and pathetic, Eddie thought, struggling to concentrate on his thoughts over the loud whine of an electric guitar and the roar of the crowd. He sighed with relief when the song finally ended.

"We're taking a short break," the lead singer announced before setting down the microphone and nearly falling into a grappling embrace by none other than Frank Manera.

Great, thought Eddie. It would be impossible to drag Frank away from the club after the crowd while he was rubbing-elbows with the local "celebrities." Eddie could not fathom why Frank insisted on taking him to these fucking places when it was clear Frank did not need his company. The crowded, smoky club was Frank's natural environment—where he excelled.

The house music was not nearly as loud or grating as Eddie had feared. Eddie was thankful that the volume remained low and his eardrums would not be punctured. He recognized the soft tune and particular sound of the voice. Nirvana, Eddie realized. He recognized the song because it was one of Frank's favorite bands, and Eddie had been forced to listen to it at least fifteen times during one of their week long road trips several years back.

 _I need an easy friendship  
I do with an ear to lend  
I do think you fit this shoe  
I do, won't you have a clue?_

Eddie heard a couple of voices laughing and singing along in the distance. His gaze was drawn toward the origin of the noises, more inertia than curiosity—and it hit him. A feeling like an electric current coursed through his veins when his eyes landed on the source of the sound-a young man. Suddenly, Eddie could not tear his eyes away. His hands clenched at his sides. He'd never felt that way from merely looking at someone before. At least, not someone he did not know, and definitely never so instant or powerful.

 _I'll take advantage while  
you hang me out to dry  
but I can't see you every night Free...I do_

The young man's eyes were closed and he held a beer up to his chest. His head, hips, and legs moved rhythmically to the music. He looked so casual and relaxed in the crowded environment. His faded jeans were ripped at the knees, and his black t-shirt was so faded the logo was undecipherable. A flannel, red plaid shirt was tied around his waist to complete the look. His hair fell past his chin, the soft blond color perfectly framing his young, handsome face. Eddie could not look away from the vision before him.

 _I'm standing in your line  
I do hope you have the time  
I do pick a number, too  
I do keep a date with you_

Without thinking, Eddie walked directly up to the young man. His eyes were transfixed on the boy's dancing, not wanting to miss out on any detail, no matter how small. Where did this guy come from? He was dressed like any other rough customer of the club, but his movements showed a softness that seemed to clash with the music echoing off the walls. Eddie could not look away, blue eyes locked on his target. For the first time that evening, he was thankful for the crowd because it prevented his deliberate actions from standing out—especially when the young man turned in his direction and Eddie's breath caught in his throat.

 _I'll take advantage while  
You hang me out to dry  
But I can't see you every night Free...I do_

Just when Eddie was sure the show before him could not grow more interesting, a pair of brown eyes met his own and he noticed the ghost of a smile on the boy's lips. Eddie's heart accelerated rapidly feeling nervous, excited, and fascinated. There were too many emotions to separate.

 _I need an easy friend  
I do with an ear to lend  
I do think you fit this shoe  
I do, won't you have a clue?_

Eddie watched as the young man walked carelessly through the crowd in Eddie's direction with an amused expression on his face. He paid careful attention to every sway of his hips and the delicate curve of his neck. Eddie did not know whether to rejoice or despair as the man approached. He preferred to be a distant observer, but was fighting his body's natural impulse to want to get closer to this person and learn more about them.

 _I'll take advantage while  
You hang me out to dry  
But I can't see you every night  
No, I can't see you every night Free  
I do, I do, I do..._

The song ended and Eddie watched the young man empty the beer bottle in his hand. Another song began, but it became background noise that Eddie ignored. He looked down for a moment, unsure how to act. He had never felt so out of place as he did in that moment, lost in a crowd of young people that held nothing in common with his way of thinking. Still, Eddie contemplated approaching this total stranger and asking for his name just to hear his voice. The night just kept getting crazier.

Eddie had never been the type of man to seek out a one night stand. He was not a man who had sheltered many related in his memoirs, but the few I had were the result of hard work, quotes, things, details. And ultimately it was not some strange appearance misaligned in the worst had taken the decision not to getting around the issue and to stop once and for all that vulgar behavior as before I felt a strong arm around his neck.

"Finally found you, Ed! You had me worried. Where were you?" Frank asked. The sour smell of alcohol hit Eddie's face giving him the warning that his friend was on his way to being tipsy. Frank was a terrible drunk, often requiring Eddie to drag him out of establishments and he tended to make a general nuisance of himself.

"Where did you think I was? It's not as if this place is big enough for me to get lost," said Eddie. His face showed the annoyance he felt over his friend's condition, but his gaze betrayed him as he looked out across the crowd. The change in his facial expression was not lost on Frank.

"You're having fun, Eddie?" said Frank, grinning. "You want to stay a little longer?" The question startled Eddie and he stared at Frank's undecipherable expression, unsure how to answer.

"Alright," Eddie conceded, "but only for a little while longer. I have an early commitment and must attend to some orders for my clients."

"Suit yourself, Ed. Just remember that you have to let go a little...alright?" There was no opportunity to reply when Frank was swallowed up by the crowd again. Eddie felt lost, unsure what to do with himself at that point.

His gaze drifted back to the group of dancing young people. The group consisted of a couple girls and three boys, all dressed in a similar style. The group was laughing and talking loudly as Eddie approached the bar. He took a last look, noting how the young blond stayed in place, watching him. The young man smiled in his direction. His expression was playful and childish, as though he were up to some mischief, before he turned away to address his friends.

Eddie sighed. He was unfamiliar with how one should behave in such a situation having never participated in casual dating. His natural inclinations told him to walk up with a gallant smile and proclaim, "Hello! I'm really attracted to you sexually and found your dance erotic and suggestive. May I buy you a beer?" Common sense told him that was the definite wrong thing to do in this situation.

Meanwhile, Waylon turned to watch the members of his small group. Miles had insisted, per usual, that the group visit that particular club for the third time that week. Miles preferred the club because the beer were cheap and the women were easy, though the last observation earned a scowl from Lisa who seemed a step away from punching Miles in the nose.

"What was that, Park?" Miles said, handing Waylon a freshly opened beer.

"What was what?" asked Waylon.

"Don't play dumb, Way! You were dancing for this guy, right?"

The eyes of the entire group focused on Waylon at the same time. Waylon frowned as he took a sip of his beer.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Waylon. "We're all just having fun, Miles. I found it funny that he seemed to be watching me. You think he's some kind of pervert?"

"I don't know. Maybe you could find out tonight," Miles said in a mocking tone. It was common for him to treat Waylon that way, and he was used to the treatment.

Waylon and Miles had been friends for years. He had given Waylon a chance back when everyone only knew him as the "nerd." Waylon learned to walk on his own, earning a reputation in the streets, and strengthening his friendship with Miles even more. They both knew exactly what to say—and what not to say- to one another.

"Sometimes you're unbearable, you know?" said Waylon.

"And sometimes you're too obvious, bro," said Miles. The rest of the group was content to listen and laugh at their banter. Everyone knew that Miles and Waylon got along despite their tendency to be sarcastic toward one another. The pair had only fought once in their entire friendship, and that time had been a misunderstanding more than anything else. Waylon was the quiet one, while sarcasm and defiance were second nature to Miles.

He hoped to make a career out of it one day. Miles' political ideologies tended toward extremes. He was always involved in some social movement, no matter how risky. On more than one occasion, Waylon had been called on to get Miles out of jail after being accused of vandalism because of his participation in a political march that devolved into a riot. He had also been called upon to carry Miles home like a child more times than Miles liked to admit.

After years of friendship, Miles knew all of Waylon's tastes and preferences—what type of men usually caught his eye. That's why the encounter with the stranger had not gone unnoticed. Waylon did not usually flirt so brazenly, even in a club environment. Miles was required by the code of friendship to mention the behavior.

One of Waylon's favorite songs began to play, and it was not coincidence that Waylon casually suggested that his group dance. He pulled the rest of the girls with him, creating a small group of dancing bodies. He started up with his routine similar to before. Waylon may not have been the best dancer, or the best speaker, but his relaxed attitude and focus on his dancing made him ten times more attractive. He continued to seek out eye contact with the strange man, constantly seeking to catch his eye only to look away quickly. That way he could deny it to his friends, though his actions were definitely intentional.

Eddie's internal war continued for the rest of the evening. The interactions with the dancing boy did not end there—he saw him everywhere. When Eddie went to the bar, the boy would be sitting directly across from him, holding his beer up with a slight smile on his face. On his way to the bathroom, the young man walked out as Eddie approached, passing right by without making eye contact—as though the constant eye contact throughout the night had been something Eddie imagined.

No matter where Eddie went or what he did, the scenario was the same—his gaze continued to find the dancing boy despite the growing crowd. A strange thought occurred to Eddie as he began to wonder if maybe the boy was following him in the same way? No—he could not believe that. It was impossible to think someone in a club like that would be interested in any interaction with a man like him. They would have nothing in common! Eddie did not even know what they could talk about.

Miles had noticed the look on Waylon's face and grinned at the positively childish behavior being displayed by both of the men. Who did they think they were fooling with this act? The stranger took pains to stay away from Waylon, while the blond worked hard to remain in the stranger's range of vision. They were too obvious. Miles' attention was suddenly diverted when he felt a hand clap him on the shoulder.

"Hey, Upshur! I have to talk to you," came the voice of Frank Manera, causing Miles to turn around with a shocked expression. They had met recently during one of Miles many visits to the home of Chris Walker. Coincidentally, Chris had been the drummer in a band with Frank though their band was currently on hiatus. It was not uncommon for paths to cross, especially in a small city like theirs with a relatively small scene.

"What do we have to talk about? I was under the impression that I was not your type," Miles said, the grin on his face causing Frank to frown. The two men were strikingly similar which led to their personalities clashing on many occasions.

"I did not come here to talk about your preferences, pal. I came to talk about my boy, Eddie. It's pretty obvious what's happening here? Someone like you should be able to pick up what's going on with the way he's stalking around the club staring at your friend there. I promise you, Eddie does not have the balls to make the first move."

Miles focused on Frank's words, nodding slowly. Miles was not surprised that Frank would suggest taking action—Miles had had the same thought, after all. Still, he hated agreeing with Frank on anything.

"Waylon's doing it on purpose," Miles said, "he's purposely flirting with your boy. So...it's mutual. But they're both being stupid. You have some suggestion on how to fix this?"

"Now that you mention it, I do happen to have a plan in mind..."

As the night wore on, Eddie's attitude took a turn for the worst. He had ordered a miserable craft beer, which tasted horrible, all for the sake of "supporting local businesses." The bartenders had a clear preference for plunging necklines and miniskirts which he found trashy. Eddie decided it was time to leave. Part of his deal with Frank was that they would not remain at the club until three in the morning, and it was already growing late and the club was beginning to wear on Eddie's patience.

Eddie started to look for Frank in the crowd, and a frustrated sigh escaped his lips. It seemed that his friend had been swallowed up by the Earth. Eddie looked everywhere, impressed that his friend could actually get lost in such a tiny building. Eddie expected to find Frank spending time with the two sluts that had greeted them upon entering. He had spotted Frank infrequently and always hanging near those two ladies. Perhaps Frank had gotten lucky in scoring a partner for the evening and already left?

"Stupid Frank...he knows I don't like driving home alone this late at night," Eddie said to himself. His voice was thick with annoyance as he walked to the exit, hoping to find Frank in the parking lot—most likely in the back of some car. Eddie had only to look for the vehicle that was rocking conspicuously. He hated his friend in that moment.

Cold air assaulted Eddie the moment he walked outside and he immediately cursed himself for forgetting to wear warmer clothing or bring a jacket. Then he stopped when he noticed a slender figure leaning against a car with a cigarette in one hand and a cellphone in the other. He glanced up from his phone and noticed Eddie, a small smile on his face. At that point, Eddie forgot all about the cold—and the name of the friend he was supposed to be finding.

"My friends left me too," said the young blond with a wry smile. He pressed his fingers around the screen of his phone, re-reading again and again the messages from Miles.

 _-I...Chris home. The girls also. I am sorry. I love you. Kiss!-_

"Fuck," cursed Waylon, pocketing his cell as he puffed on his cigarette, staring in the opposite direction from where Eddie stood. "I saw your friend, the guy with the messy long hair? He left with some noisy blond chick. I doubt they're still around..."

"Probably won't be seeing him for at least three days then," Eddie muttered, fighting to calm his anger as much as his rising desire for the young boy. The two emotions waged war on his thoughts as he continued to stare. The stranger's voice was just as he had imagined: soft—but not too soft, and friendly despite sounding slightly sarcastic. In the dim lighting of the parking lot, Eddie could see his features more clearly. He found himself staring at the boy's clear brown eyes and smooth face.

"You're lucky. Three days is nothing. Once, I lost Miles for almost three full weeks. I had to borrow Lisa's car to pick him up off the side of the road in New Mexico. He never did give me many details about how he got there..." Waylon paused as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. He placed a new cigarette between his lips then extended his hand toward the stranger, "Want one?" Eddie shook his head quickly to decline the offer, causing Waylon to grin with the cigarette between his lips.

"I don't want to be rude, but what is a person like you doing in a place like this? You shouldn't come dressed up like that. People will think you're a cop...or someone's dad," said Waylon.

"What exactly is wrong with the way I dress? There's nothing wrong with wanting to dress properly," said Eddie. The quick reaction pulled at Waylon's heart, though he pushed the feeling away as quickly as it appeared.

"Waylon," he said, "What's your name?"

The question caught Eddie off-guard. He smiled back and extended his hand in a stiff, formal gesture—another Gluskin Registered Trademark as Frank would call it.

"I'm Edward Gluskin, but most tend to shorten it to Eddie. It's very nice to make your acquaintance, Waylon."

A strange look came over Waylon's face as he raised his hand and pressed his palm into the huge hand being offered. Their differences were very noticeable in that moment. Apart from their vastly different sizes, they also had vastly different complexions and contrasting hair colors of dark and light. Waylon had never felt like he was weak. He believed his physical stature fell well within the range of average. Still, next to Eddie, he managed to feel very small. It caused conflicting emotions within him as he could not decide whether he should be more intrigued or somewhat intimidated.

"Well. I need to get home," said Waylon, pushing off the car into a standing position. "Fucking Miles took the car this time so, I guess I'm walking."

"I could give you a ride...if you had no objections, of course," said Eddie. The offer was strange considering they were a couple of complete strangers who had only talked one time behind a bar in the middle of the night. Waylon narrowed his eyes as he considered the offer. Ultimately, his attraction to Eddie won out. He was very attractive.

Waylon had always had a weakness for big guys, but Eddie was unique. The way he could appear so calm, gentle, and elegant while maintaining such power and masculinity. Waylon was incredibly interested in getting closer.

"You sure? I mean, I could be a serial killer who takes advantage of nice guys like you and then disposes of their bodies off the side of the road. Or maybe it's you who's hiding a room full of corpses in the basement of your cabin or something," said Waylon. He had intended the joke to reduce the tension between them, but he was met with an unnerving glare from cold blue eyes. "Oh god, I was right? You kill young guys you pick up at bars!"

"Absolutely not! How can you dare to say such a thing..."

"It was supposed to be a joke? People tend to laugh when I make jokes, you know..."

"I do not find your unfounded accusations entertaining in the least," said Eddie. Waylon's laugh was one of the most striking and attractive things he had ever heard. He laughed until his cheeks turned red and eyes squeezed shut. Eddie was completely torn between his attraction to the laugh and his discomfort from the previous statement. He was having trouble maintaining an offended expression when he wanted to smile. Waylon's laughter was contagious.

"Would you like a ride home, or not?" asked Eddie.

"Mr. Gluskin! Oh, would you please be so kind as to be my ride tonight?" asked Waylon. The severe look on Eddie's face only intensified, but Waylon just shrugged. Eddie sighed and focused on keeping his composure as he played the role of responsible adult opposite the carefree role of Waylon Park. While the boy was engrossed in smoking his cigarette, Eddie dared a quick look up and down Waylon's body. He was not disappointed.

Eddie fished his keys from his pocket, opened the passenger door, and held it open for Waylon. He paused when he noticed the still smoldering cigarette in Waylon's hand and the pack kept out for easy access.

"There is no smoking in this car," said Eddie.

"Hmm...wait, what?" asked Waylon, his face a mixture of astonishment and indignation. "Wait, how can you have a rule like that? You're friends with Frank. I'm sure that guy did way worse stuff in this car."

"Of course not. Frank understands the rules regarding the use of my car, and one of them is that there is no smoking. I would appreciate it if you could put out your cigarette before entering, please," said Eddie.

Waylon grumbled as he flicked his cigarette to the ground, grinding it into the pavement with his military style boot. Eddie smiled and a triumphant look crossed his face for a fleeting moment before buckling his seatbelt and checking all of his gauges and mirrors. He had to be extra careful after leaving his car parked in such a shady area.

"Now, where exactly do you live?" Eddie asked once they were both buckled inside the car.

"I live downtown—just a few blocks to the right of the old train station," said Waylon. Eddie knew the area. It was known for being rather run-down and unsafe, filled with abandoned houses and poverty stricken neighborhoods.

Waylon crossed his arms, staring away out the window. He was not particularly fond of people knowing where he lived. He had spent most of his life in the area, but even he knew not to walk those streets alone late at night. Eddie wasn't sure how to get Waylon talking once they were driving toward the designated area. An uncomfortable silence settled over the car. Eddie decided to turn on the radio in an effort to ease the tension.

"Stop me if you like a station," Eddie said, pressing buttons on the dash.

"What is that? Classical music?" Waylon stared at Eddie, trying to keep from outright laughing. He failed. Waylon would have guessed that Eddie was in his forties, though he actually looked much younger than that. "You act like some kind of old geezer. Everything around you is so old fashioned."

"Excuse me? I don't mind trying another station, but do you really think that noise they play at that club should be considered good music? Let me tell you, it's shit," said Eddie. Waylon's grin only grew larger. He thought it was funny how easily Eddie could be provoked and enjoyed taunting the older man.

"Wow. So mean," said Waylon. When Eddie failed to find a station they both agreed upon, silence returned to haunt them both as they sat in the car, unspeaking. Waylon felt his cellphone vibrating from his pocket and slowly pulled it out.

-Don't be stupid, Park. You like him. He likes you. Stop messing around and do something.-

Another helpful message from Miles. Waylon grinned at his phone before staring longingly at Eddie out of the corner of his eye.

"You are so weird, you know that?" Waylon asked, the smile still splitting his face, "and it's this way. Turn right!" Eddie followed the instructions, but he was confused. The area Waylon had originally claimed to live was two streets back and their car was rapidly approaching a small, secluded park. The lighting in the area was dim and spotty allowing for plenty of dark shadows.

"Why did you bring me here, Waylon?" Eddie asked. "We passed the street toward your home just back there."

"I wanted to show you something before you drop me off. Is that alright?" Waylon asked, turning to face Eddie and smiling. It was much different from his earlier smile, devoid of any sarcasm or derision. Waylon looked happy and his posture where he sat in the car was relaxed. Eddie found it endearing the way Waylon's rough, punk exterior contrasted his complexion and the softness of his face and eyes.

Eddie pulled into the park and drove slowly through the area, pleased to find the landscaping and equipment clean despite being in a poor part of town. Eddie soon found a quiet place to park and turned off the car engine.

"So...what? What did you want to show me?" Eddie asked.

"I hadn't really thought that far ahead. Honestly, I'm surprised you followed any of my directions. I could have been trying to kidnap you or something! That's got me thinking..." said Waylon.

"Thinking about..."

"How much you like me," said Waylon. Eddie's eyes widened and he quickly attempted to cover up his surprised reaction. It was too late. Waylon had definitely noticed.

"You don't have to deny it," Waylon said, chuckling. "It was pretty fucking obvious. I could tell you were watching me when I was dancing, and how uncomfortable you were when I caught your eye at the bar. Were you avoiding me?"

Eddie squirmed in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation. "I actually believed that it was you who was stalking me."

Waylon inhaled slowly before unbuckling his seatbelt and moving to the edge of his seat. He leaned closer, his movements slow and controlled. Eddie swallowed hard as Waylon's breath ghosted across his cheek.

"Maybe you were wrong," Waylon said, right next to Eddie's cheek, "Maybe I spent the entire night trying to get your attention so I could meet you." Silence stretched on as time seemed to stop. Eddie was not sure how to react. Waylon's breath smelled of smoke and beer, but it felt warm on Eddie's cold cheek. As though driven by some natural impulse, Eddie turned his head suddenly and met a pair of brown eyes, watching him with amusement. Everything was so strange and complicated. It was like being back in high school.

"I like you, Eddie," said Waylon. "Well, I don't know if it's like. I only know that I am definitely interested in you. Aren't you interested in me, Eddie?" Waylon reached across Eddie's body to touch his shoulder before slowly dragging his hand down his muscular arm and finally coming to rest where Eddie's thigh met his hip. Waylon leaned in even closer until his lips brushed lightly against Eddie's cheek coming dangerously close to his lips in slow, deliberate movements. It took all of Eddie's self-control to keep his hands to himself. Self-control that was rapidly depleting.

"What's the matter? Don't like me? Or what, are you too old? You impotent or something? What more of an invitation are you waiting for," said Waylon as his hands became more insistent on Eddie's thigh. His lips worked their way down his face until he was kissing along Eddie's strong, chiseled jaw. He kept his eyes open as he swiped his tongue across Eddie's skin, wanting a front row seat to every reaction, no matter how slight. He noticed how Eddie seemed to be fighting some internal struggle, though his blue eyes were dilated with desire.

"Maybe you don't want..."

The phrase could not be completed. The next thing he knew, Waylon's mouth was imprisoned by a pair of lips. Strong, powerful hands grabbed his hips and he allowed himself to be pulled until he was partially sitting in Eddie's lap. The feel of Eddie's lips was much softer than Waylon had thought. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss while his hands mapped out a vast, warm chest.

Eddie ran his hands firmly over Waylon's hips, moving down to stroke his thighs that strained against the tightness of his pants. It did not even matter that Waylon tasted of smoke and alcohol—Eddie felt fucking great. He could not remember the last time he had kissed someone with such intensity or experienced the feeling of a foreign tongue invading his mouth. Waylon took him by surprise when he placed both hands on Eddie's shoulders and shoved him back against the seat. Eddie was quick to pull Waylon back with a strong grip, enjoying the power play.

"I knew you were a pervert, Eddie. I can feel your kind a mile away..."

"Shut up," growled Eddie. He found a better use for Waylon's mouth as he started a new round of kisses that soon devolved into biting and sucking desperately at one another. The car was filled with the sound of Waylon panting and Eddie gasping between kisses. Waylon's hips rocked steadily on Eddie's lap, earning new groans from both men. Their clothing became disheveled from the persistent friction between their bodies.

Eddie slid his hands up the back of Waylon's shirt, enjoying the feeling of his warm, bare back. He felt out of control—like a teenager again. He allowed his hormones and instincts to lead him and soon he forcibly pushed Waylon onto the passenger seat.

"Damn. I could tell you were a guy who likes rough sex just from spotting you tonight. You had sexual frustration written on your face," said Waylon.

"I told you to shut up, darling. Or perhaps you are going to act like a disobedient bitch tonight?"

Waylon tilted his head at the statement. That was something new—at least in terms of what he had expected from Eddie. Some people may have felt offended or frightened by the turn of events, but not Waylon.

"Did you just call me a bitch?" asked Waylon. He grinned at the distressed look that came over Eddie's face.

"Oh...I...I'm sorry. I have a bad habit of saying some strange things during..."

"...during sex," said Waylon, finishing the thought. He took advantage of Eddie's hesitation and began to undo the buttons on Eddie's shirt.

"I know it's a problem—it has been in the past. Women do not like it when..."

"I'm not a woman, Eddie. You can call me whatever you like, the more obscene the better," said Waylon before he resumed kissing Eddie. The pair used their tongues and teeth to communicate hunger and need. Eddie suspected he was not the only one with a habit of losing control during sex.

Eddie's body reacted to those kisses. His hands resumed their movements, starting to move all over any part of Waylon's body he could reach. He lifted Waylon's shirt, desperate to gain access to his slender chest. His movements slowed as he caressed his nipples, taking his time to touch and pinch the sensitive flesh until they were both standing up.

Waylon's hands were also busy moving, stroking under Eddie's shirt and attempting to lift it out of the way, eager to reveal more of his fit body. Eddie's arms were strong, his chest broad, and his thighs felt like paradise. He could not stop the soft moans escaping his lips with each roll of his hips. Both of the men had a need to feel the other, to explore what was hiding beneath their clothes. They began removing garments that were keeping them from achieving these goals.

Eddie's lips dropped to Waylon's neck as his strong hands pushed Waylon's hips up in an attempt to pull down his tight pants. Waylon finally managed to remove his own shirt and tilted his head back, offering his bare neck to Eddie with a soft sigh. While Eddie continued to kiss and lick across his skin, Waylon's hand snuck down between Eddie's legs and gave a covert squeeze. Eddie's movements stopped all at once.

"Sorry. Did I scare you?" asked Waylon.

"No...it's fine, darling," said Eddie.

"Why do you call me darling? Is it some kind of weird, fetish thing or something?" Eddie removed Waylon's seeking hand from his lap. Waylon was unfazed, meeting Eddie's gaze defiantly. Still, Eddie was pleased to see that Waylon seemed to yield to his intimidation.

"You say a lot of things with that mouth of yours, darling," said Eddie. "Maybe we should find a more creative use for that tongue of yours." Eddie forced his fingers past Waylon's lips and into his mouth before he could complain. Waylon immediately began to lick and suck greedily at the digits, a trail of saliva spilling from the corner of his lips.

Eddie finally succeeded in removing Waylon's tight pants, all while never breaking eye contact. He knew he should calm down and try to control his baser instincts. Usually Eddie only practiced these strange control fantasies about dominating someone else completely in the privacy of his own home. Waylon's response to the dominant actions provided incentive for the treatment to continue.

"You like it rough...like to be treated like the whore you are," said Eddie, removing his wet fingers from Waylon's mouth and using his other hand to roughly pull Waylon's boxers to the side. Two fingers traced along his puckered entrance, pressing inwards slightly. A frown of discomfort creased Waylon's face, but he made no verbal complaints aside from a broken gasp. The digits continued to prod and explore, though Eddie knew they would require more if he wanted to push further.

Eddie made an irritated noise as he reached to open up his glove compartment and easily located the bottle of lubricant he kept there. Waylon's eyes twinkled with amusement and no doubt he had several snide comments to make about the presence of the bottle, but luckily he kept them to himself. Neither wanted to ruin the moment.

"Look at me," Eddie said, taking Waylon's chin in one hand and forcing their eyes to meet, "I want you to keep your eyes on me at all times, darling. I want to see every expression and reaction while I am deep inside of you. Are you going to be a good girl for me now?"

A mixture of emotions warred within Waylon. He wanted to laugh at the strange words that were such a contrast to Eddie's neat and proper appearance. Who would have thought that such a somber man would be into such kinky sex? Then again, Waylon knew it was always the most innocent looking people hiding the darkest fetishes. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he felt a pair of thick fingers shoved abruptly inside of him, causing him to groan uncontrollably.

Eddie's touch was uncomfortable and somewhat painful, but it was hardly Waylon's first time. He had a long list of past sexual encounters, some even in cars with strangers exactly as they were. He could almost thank Eddie for having the perverted foresight to bring along lube to make things easier. Waylon smiled as he raised his hips, pushing back on Eddie's hand.

"Of course, Eddie...I'll be a good girl tonight," said Waylon.

Eddie's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Where had he found such a seductive creature? In the past, Eddie's partners had much different reactions to his unusual preferences during sex. Most looked at him with complete disapproval. Eddie was accustomed to being in control—in everything, not just sex. He had a set schedule for everything in his day and a habit for keeping everything organized. Sometimes he was confused why his friends even tolerated his behavior. None of his past partners, men or women, had come to understand his specific preferences. Their inability to understand made Eddie feel impatient which sometimes manifested itself in explosions of irritation.

Eddie slid his fingers deeper and Waylon had to arch his body slightly to maintain eye contact as he had been instructed. He kept his hands to himself, afraid anything else might go against his partner's wishes. Eddie was impressed with Waylon's obedience as he worked a third finger past his muscular ring.

"Shit," hissed Waylon,

"Language, darling," chided Eddie. "No decent woman would use such vulgarity."

"Yeah well, I was never a very decent woman," Waylon gasped, his eyes squinting as he moaned. Eddie licked his lips at the sight of Waylon's pleasure. An adorable blush adorned Waylon's cheeks making him look even more sweet and docile. The innocent appearance only doubled Eddie's need.

Eddie leaned down to close his lips around one of Waylon's nipples. He glanced up to watch his face as his fingers began to thrust faster. Waylon's entire body trembled at the sensation. Eddie's fingers were thick and stretching him almost uncomfortably. He knew from experience that the more he relaxed, the better it would be, but he found it difficult to breathe deeply and relax his body without losing sight of those fierce blue eyes. That intense stare caused Waylon's cock to throb in his boxers where they still covered him partially. He was dying for some stimulation on that part of his body, but

considered whether Eddie would object to such behavior. Waylon gave a devilish grin as he decided to test his luck.

"What are you doing," Eddie snapped.

"Touching myself," Waylon drawled, starting to stroke his own cock with slow, measured strokes above the dark cloth of his boxers. His eyes closed momentarily at the relief he experienced, despite detecting the annoyance in Eddie's tone. It was no surprise when Eddie's hand grasped his hand and moved to restrain his wrists.

"What did I say about being a good girl, darling? It seems you're striving to misbehave," Eddie said before biting down on Waylon's chest—hard—leaving a clear bite mark. The moan that escaped Waylon's lips was louder than either expected. There was something very exciting about being dominated by a man like Eddie. Waylon found Eddie's voice and formal manner of speaking so arousing his cock managed to grow even harder.

Eddie bit down again, and managed to pull a shout from Waylon as sharp teeth embedded in pale skin. The metallic taste of warm blood spilling into his mouth had Eddie humming with satisfaction as he licked at the bleeding wound.

"I believe you are ready for me," Eddie whispered next to Waylon's ear, his three fingers easily sliding in and out. He withdrew his hand and quickly undid his pants, shuffling his clothing until his cock was freed. Waylon watched intently, immediately feeling nervous by Eddie's intimidating size. His member was large and thick, leaving Waylon incredibly grateful that he had taken so much time in preparing his entrance. It would make the next morning much less painful. Waylon began looking around at his discarded pants and the action caught Eddie's attention.

"Look in my back pocket, I always bring a few condoms," said Waylon.

Eddie frowned, avoiding Waylon's eyes. "What? It's not like I use them all the time, just better to be prepared..."

"It's not that. I just...I require...Special ones" said Eddie.

"Oh, you mean, because you're huge?" asked Waylon, grinning. "I am actually pretty pleasantly surprised to see that..."

"No. I just...need a hypoallergenic condom…."

"Hypo...what?" His following laugh had Eddie breaking out in an actual blush that Waylon found amusing. He was obviously uncomfortable showing even the smallest amount of vulnerability in front of another person.

"Let me guess, you're allergic to sex?"

"Don't be ridiculous! I'm not allergic to sex. I am allergic to...to latex. It's no laughing matter..." Eddie said, frowning as his cheeks grew warm.

"That's an excuse I haven't heard before," said Waylon, his laughter echoing throughout the car. Eddie frowned as his excitement faded slightly and he began to sit back in his seat. Waylon noticed and quickly stopped laughing, sliding his arms around Eddie's neck.

"Sorry. I'm not laughing at you or anything...I'm kind of an idiot sometimes. Forgive me?" asked Waylon. His voice was so sweet and pure, unlike anything Eddie had heard before. Eddie stared into his eyes finding them wide and innocent. "Come on...we're having fun, right? Sorry I was rude. I don't know what others have said about it before, but I think you're sexy," said Waylon, rubbing little circles onto Eddie's chest before leaning in to dust kisses along his bare shoulder.

Eddie inhaled deeply, unable to ignore Waylon's words and his hands on his chest. His body was quick to react, once again filled with longing. He especially responded to the gentle feeling of Waylon's hands on him, making him feel wanted.

"Come on Eddie," whispered Waylon. "I want to feel my husband's seed leaking out of me." The strange phrasing was inspired by Eddie's strange insistence on their roles as a couple, but Waylon had a feeling there was more to it than Eddie let on. He suspected that Eddie liked his partners dolled up in dresses, pearls, the whole package—no matter their gender. Waylon had never felt particularly feminine, but he was always open to experiencing new things. Especially when he felt Eddie's throbbing shaft respond to his seeking fingers.

Eddie could not hold back any longer. Waylon's body was nearly thrown over the seat. He felt Eddie enter him in one swift motion, penetrating deep and hard. The high pitched moan that escaped Waylon's lips was a pleasant surprise. The invasion had been too sudden and Waylon's hips were pushed up until Eddie was buried to the hilt. Eddie groaned in satisfaction. The vision of Waylon as an obedient wife was the biggest turn on he could imagine.

"Ahh...E-Eddie," stuttered Waylon.

"Stay still, darling...let me fill you up..." said Eddie between breaths. He began to slam into Waylon with a persistant and punishing pace. He seemed out of control of his actions, completely lost in the fantasy as their hips slapped together with each thrust. Waylon's legs were lifted up, forcing him to arch his lower back, and causing Eddie to achieve an angle that stimulated his prostate on every push.

Waylon's body was already humming with anticipation as he closed his eyes. Eddie's hands on his back were tight enough to leave bruises. Waylon knew he would come quickly if the hard thrusts continued. Eddie's movements were fast and fluid, aided by his previous diligence with the lubricant while preparing Waylon. Soon, he was approaching his threshold, unable to stop himself from moaning Eddie's name.

The sound of his own name on Waylon's lips delighted Eddie. His hands gripped slender hips so tightly his fingernails would leave indents in the pale flesh. The scent of Waylon's body filling the car drove him crazy. He could not stop his thoughts from going to a thousand and one domestic scenarios starring Waylon as his obedient, suburban wife. The fantasy of indulging in marital sex with his partner was one that his thoughts returned to quite often. A few short thrusts later, Eddie filled Waylon with a deep groan. The sudden burst of warmth in his gut had Waylon gasping as his climax followed.

"Ngh...Eddie," panted Waylon. His eyes were closed and a few drops of sweat rolled down his forehead. There was some soreness in his hips, but the feeling of satisfaction and pleasure was stronger. "I'm full of you..."

"Do you like it, darling? Having my seed inside of you?"

"Love it..." said Waylon, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

Eddie was thankful that he had agreed to go out that night, though that club had never been his favorite. At least a good, hard fuck had come out of the evening. It took a couple of minutes for the pair to calm their breathing. Eddie looked into Waylon's eyes for a moment. The dim lighting filtering through the window made a beautiful reflection in his brown eyes. They were clearer than Eddie had originally imagined—innocent, attractive. The slight blush on Waylon's cheeks added to his appeal. Eddie leaned in to place a couple of soft kisses on Waylon's flushed face.

Waylon's body shook with a soft, tired laugh. He was not used to being treated so kindly after sex—though it was always something he craved.

"Eddie, you're amazing, really. I don't mean just because you're still inside of me..."

"Do you always speak this way?" Eddie asked, kissing Waylon's lips gently. "You really say the most vulgar things..."

"Look who's talking, pervert," said Waylon, grinning. "Do you make a habit of picking up young guys and buttfucking them in your car, old man?"

"Only when they are very cute," Eddie said softly. The warm feeling was threatening to envelop them both and lure them into sleep. Waylon knew he could not give into the temptation. He had to get home sooner or later.

He wondered if this was the last time he would see Eddie. It was not unusual for this type of encounter—after each party gets what they want, they tend to go their separate ways. Miles was always lecturing him about respecting his body and finding more meaningful relationships. Waylon pretended to listen, knowing that Miles was right, but ultimately it was just easier to seek out a physical relationship without worrying about anything emotion. But, there was a first time for everything.

Being with Eddie felt entirely different from anything else he had experienced. The kisses, the caresses—everything was different. Maybe Eddie felt the same way about him.


	2. The Eddie Twist

**The Eddie Twist**

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 **Chapter Summary** : After their first meeting, Eddie and Waylon decided it was best if they did not get involved in a relationship, despite their undeniable chemistry at their first meeting. Waylon's friends continue to insist that he not let the opportunity slip away. What's the worst that could happen if he went out on one, little date with Eddie?

* * *

 **A/N** : I'm making a mess xD. I was going to make this story a one shot, but apparently this story has taken on a life of its own and I have to write more. I'm completely in love with the way I describe Waylon in this fic, and I'm excited about all the potential of the story. I feel I've captured some aspects of myself in him, especially in regards to the musical aspect xD. I have lots of ideas about his past life that I will reveal as the story continues.

Above all, the idea of the band and variants interacting in this environment has inspired me. For the first time I can say openly that each of them is happy and has a good, peaceful life in this AU.

Thank you Picaa for all the ideas we have discussed. Much of this fic was built on various conversations we've had together and I dedicate much of this work to you because of your amazing and inspiring art work. You shaped many of my ideas in your doodles, which I greatly appreciate.

* * *

 _If you think that a kiss is all in the lips_

 _C'mon, you got it all wrong, man_

 _And if you think that our dance was all in the hips_

 _Oh well, do the twist_

Waylon felt dizzy. It was not the same kind of dizziness that he usually felt when he was drunk. He felt sick and numb, and his eyelids felt heavy. It was a strange feeling. Waylon was not usually the kind of person to overindulge in alcohol and lose control. He had a high tolerance, despite his smaller stature.

"What's up Way? You look like shit."

Waylon managed to look even more dazed than before. He leaned back and let his head land on the back of the sofa where he sat next to Jeremy Blaire. He felt an arm settle around his shoulders and pull him close. Jeremy used to own clubs that were definitely not Waylon's scene. The electronic music was so loud as to be headache inducing, as were the obnoxious strobe lights, and the permeating stink of smoke. Waylon started to suspect that Jeremy had put something in his drink.

"I don't feel good, Blaire, I think I need to go home…" Waylon's voice lowered to a whisper as he finished the thought. He could hear Jeremy laughing, but it seemed to be coming from far away, echoing in the distance. There were others present and laughing with him, but they were only shadows in his strange vision which was fading quickly to a pinpoint. He was losing consciousness.

"I hope you liked your drink, Park. I spent a lot on you this week. I think you should be grateful—considerate even. Don't you agree?" Jeremy took a bottle of beer from the table and forced Waylon's lips open. He poured the liquid down Waylon's throat, despite his resistance. Waylon felt like he was suffocating. He reached out to grab Jeremy's hand, but it was like a child wrestling against a giant's strength. He looked into Jeremy's eyes before losing consciousness altogether. That would be his last memory of the night.

Waylon opened his eyes and felt the movement of a car. He turned his head to look toward the driver's seat. Eddie sat up straight and concentrated as he drove, eyes focused on the darkened streets. Waylon felt rather embarrassed of the ridiculous slouching position he had slipped into after he had passed out. He briefly wondered why Jeremy would pop into his mind at a time like that. He did not know how to describe their relationship—if you could call it that, since it was never clear if they were formally together. Ultimately, his interactions with Jeremy were a game based on power and control-where Waylon was just another possession in Jeremy's collection. It had taken Waylon years of these games before he recognized the truth.

"You fell asleep, darling," said Eddie, his tone gentle as he reached a hand across to softly caress Waylon's numbed cheek. Eddie's hand felt warm against his chilled face and he slowly realized a thick coat had been placed across his chest and lap. Everything seemed so soft and pleasant—Waylon could not help but smile at the kind gesture.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I'm pretty tired…ya know, from the sex," said Waylon, his tone casual. His nonchalant way of speaking about sex seemed to embarrass Eddie less than before. It was only natural considering neither one could judge the other: they had both just had sex, in a car, with a virtual stranger.

"Are we close to your house?" Eddie asked.

"Sure, just a couple of streets, then it's the third house on the left," Waylon said, raising his arms as he stretched while yawning. The warmth and comfort of the coat made him feel good. Eddie followed his directions and stopped the car in front of a dilapidated old house with an unkempt lawn. Waylon noticed how Eddie took in the sight and then avoided looking at him. He regretted the condition of his house, but not enough to feel embarrassed of his mother or their lifestyle. Waylon just hated having to give anyone some kind of explanation for why they lived the way they did. Jeremy had always been quick to ridicule him about it.

"Well, thanks for driving me, Eddie. That night ended better than expected," said Waylon, all traces of ridicule and sarcasm gone from his voice. He threw Eddie's coat into the backseat and unfastened his seatbelt. He no longer felt like mocking the older man. He felt too relaxed and satisfied-as well as a feeling he could not begin to describe.

Eddie felt the same. There was something about the idea of never seeing Waylon again that made him feel sad. He knew it was stupid and immature to feel that way about someone he had just met, but he could not shake the feeling. Waylon stared at him with the same unspoken question on his face as both waited in silence, as though needing some sign from the universe about what to do next.

"Could I get your number?" Eddie asked, pulling his phone from his pocket. Waylon was surprised by the question, but he broke out in a smile at the strange way Eddie held his phone, as though technology were completely foreign to him.

Waylon looked down, not sure how to react. He did not expect to see Eddie again or to remain in any kind of contact, considering they were complete polar opposites. Still, he could see no real harm in giving out his number. Instead, he shrugged and relayed the number.

"Splendid. I suppose the proper protocol is for me to send you some kind of textual message or a call at some point, correct?" asked Eddie.

"Whatever you say, Eddie," Waylon said with a grin. "Good night." Both men stared at one another and their bodies ended up leaning closer to one another. Waylon was not sure how to act at the end of such a night, especially considering their evening activities. Usually, Waylon's partners preferred to have sex in a hotel room and he could leave the room before the other person woke to avoid any uncomfortable goodbyes. It felt different with Eddie, though. He was so attentive and considerate, making everything feel much more formal. It was all very strange to Waylon.

Seemingly at the same time, both men decided on a parting kiss. Even though he was new to this type of goodbye kiss, Waylon felt pleasantly warm at the tender way Eddie kissed him. His lips moved soft and slow against his own causing him to sigh softly. The kiss was completely different from their previous kisses which had been full of a fierce desire. This was much slower and gentler, as though Eddie were savoring his last fleeting moments with Waylon. When they finally pulled away, Eddie's hand rested gently against Waylon's cheek and the two held eye contact for several heartbeats. Finally, Eddie gave a small smile and placed one last quick goodbye kiss on Waylon's nose and lips.

"Sleep well," said Eddie before dropping his hand and sitting up straighter in his seat. Waylon slumped in the passenger seat, confused on what to do next, and still reluctant to look away from Eddie. He finally got out of the car and stopped at his front door, turning to watch Eddie drive away. He stared into the darkness until the sound of Eddie's car's engine was a distant hum. What the hell just happened? Everything had felt so different, especially the strange way they had said goodbye.

Waylon went straight to his room and dropped onto his bed. He stared up at his battered ceiling, leaving his cell phone on the nightstand right beside his pack of cigarettes. He was exhausted, but the sense of confusion and the vivid memories kept him from finding rest.

No matter how hard he tried, Waylon could not stop thinking of Eddie. His intense blue eyes, his soft, deep voice, and the way the scent of his cologne still clung to his denim jacket. Waylon felt like a pathetic schoolgirl with a crush—the same way Miles was with Chris Walker. Miles was always obsessively wanting to talk about Chris and trying to orchestrate a "chance" meeting. Waylon had no intention of letting himself become that way.

In fact, Waylon would probably have no reason to ever see Eddie again at all. It was unusual for Eddie to go to the clubs that Waylon frequented. Their only connection was his brief acquaintanceship with Frank Manera. Waylon did not know the man directly, but he had heard stories about his legendary parties, excessive lifestyle, and other strange hobbies. He had even attended a couple of shows where Frank's band had played.

Miles was especially fond of going to watch them, motivated by his desire to watch Chris play the drums. He turned into a beast when he took his position behind the drum set. Waylon knew they were all close to Eddie, since there was always a rumor about a close friend of the band that did not fit in with the rest of the crew. Just Waylon's luck, he had to run into said misfit friend-though maybe it wasn't such bad luck, after all.

Meanwhile, Eddie returned to his own house. If Waylon felt strange, it was ten times worse for him. Not only had he engaged in sex with a younger man in a car, in public, but he had acted so strangely during the act. Instead of treating the act like some quick and dirty release, Eddie had treated Waylon like someone he was dating-kissing him and caressing his face as though he were some delicate flower to be treasured.

What the hell had happened to him?! Waylon must have thought he was completely weird. It was not normal to change such a rough, casual encounter into something romantic. The flush on Waylon's face had prompted a tenderness in Eddie which he tried to explain away as post-coital emotions. But then why had it felt so natural to kiss him goodbye and ask for his number? Eddie was not sure why he felt the way he did.

The thought of not seeing Waylon again caused a tight, strange feeling in his chest. He had to find a way to get in touch with Waylon again, and hoped desperately that he had not been given a false number. His inadequate feelings left him feeling clumsy and confused. He did not want to worry about the situation that night. All worrying could accomplish was a migraine headache leading to a bad night's sleep and then an equally bad mood in the morning. He was sure that in the morning, the scent of Waylon's musk on his clothes would have dissipated, as well as the unusual feelings and the haunting memory of their last kiss.

The next morning, Eddie woke up early, per usual. Everything in his daily routine was calculated, starting with reviewing the accounts of the different customers expected that day. Eddie's shop had only been open for a few months, but it had already become very popular and he had many regular customers. Working on the finances and picking out materials was one of the most relaxing activities for Eddie. The practice completely confused Frank who often commented on Eddie's boring lifestyle.

Most of the morning passed quietly, despite the constant desire to send a good morning text message to Waylon, or to ask how he was feeling, or even just to wish him a good day. Why was he having these types of desires for someone he had just met? He attributed the feelings to the fact that before the previous night, he had not had any type of sexual activity for months. Eddie had completely thrown all of his moral values out the car window that night.

The sound of the front door opening pulled Eddie from his thoughts and he watched the familiar sight of Frank Manera walking into his home with one of his guitars on his back and a huge smile on his face.

"How'd my boy do last night!" Frank asked, his tone boisterous as he grabbed Eddie's neck and started mess his hair despite protests and complaints, as well as several attempts to shake him off.

"Do not do that, Frank! I have said, time and time again, I do not like…"

"Look who's in a bad mood this morning. Guess you didn't get laid last night after all. I want to know everything, come on man, don't skimp on any of the details…"

"I am not saying anything! That is private and personal information Frank, also…"

"Ha! So you DID sleep with him! That a boy, Eddie! I'm so happy for you, man, you can finally move past this sexual frustration thing you've had going on. I hadn't seen you get laid since…What was her name…Amanda? Madison? Whatever, I don't remember, but she had a horrible name. Come on, we've got to celebrate! I even brought Stacy over so I could play you a song," said Frank.

Frank had many strange habits, like wearing dark glasses everywhere, anytime, no matter the time of day. He also always wore boots, especially cowboy boots or combat boots. But the strangest habit had to be the way he would name his guitars and treat them like people. Even though he was careless with some of his other possessions, like his motorcycle, he always took great care of his guitars. He had one in every style, shape, size, and color. Talking to them was part of his daily routine. Eddie always wondered how he could stand to be friends with such a strange person, but they had been friends for so long the strange habits had become part of their normal interactions.

"Alright Ed, this song is dedicated to you…"

 _I want to sing about how Eddie had sex with a young guy,_

 _But if I do he'll probably throw me out a window if I try_

A huge smile split Frank's face. Upsetting Eddie Gluskin was one of his favorite hobbies. Eddie was too temperamental, so it was too easy to provoke him with the slightest effort. They were always joking around with one another. They had been friends for so long that neither took any of the teasing seriously. Joking around was a huge part of their friendship.

"I can't believe you fucked that guy, he was young—I mean, really young for you. Tell me everything, did he have a nice ass? What did you do in the car? Did you guys have sex at your house or his? Did you wear a dress? Maybe you just used a dress…"

"Frank…"

"Oh, you both wore a dress? Wow, that is pretty dirty, but it shows the boy likes it kinky. I mean, that's probably why he noticed you in the first place…" said Frank. Eddie covered his mouth with his hand, fighting back the urge to kick his friend out of his house. Frank was being annoying, but Eddie had to agree with some of what he said. His mood was particularly good that day, and he found himself unable to avoid or deny the questions about his evening. It all came back to that adorably disheveled blond boy that Eddie could not get out of his thoughts.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the suburbs, Waylon and Miles were sitting around together. It was their normal routine after a night out to meet and catch up with the previous night's events. Normally, Waylon would have been angry at Miles for leaving him stranded at the club, but he was finding it hard to stay angry considering how it had led to him meeting Eddie.

Miles knew he had orchestrated the mysterious encounter. It was no coincidence that Miles and Frank both vanished, leaving Eddie and Waylon stranded together in the parking lot. The fated meeting had turned out better than either of them could have planned. Waylon sat smiling and feeling relaxed, while Miles could not tear his eyes away from his cell phone.

"How did it go at Chris' house last night?" Waylon asked, noting a half eaten sandwich and a bag of chips open on a nearby table.

"Fine. I mean, there were tons of people, like always, but I at least got to say hello and chat with him a bit. You know how popular he is," said Miles.

"He's a nice person, always kind to people. It's not surprising people want to hang around him," said Waylon.

"Yeah, I'm aware, Way, but I just wish I could talk to him alone for once, you know? Without people interrupting us every five minutes," Miles said, leaving the phone on his lap for a moment. He glanced at Waylon out of the corner of his eye, a knowing smile on his face. "How about you? How'd it go? Did you end up leaving with that pervert?"

"His name is Eddie Gluskin. And yes, he drove me home last night. And we had sex in his car," said Waylon.

Miles was used to the casual way that Waylon discussed sexual activity. It was not unusual and they both always ended up recounting every sordid detail to one another.

"So he was a pervert then. Glad to hear that—how was it?" Miles asked, his eyes once again focused on his cell phone. Waylon assumed Chris was rising so fast on the different social networks because Miles was one of his more active supporters. His infatuation with Chris began long ago, and Waylon was accustomed to his friend's obsessive behavior.

"It was…good. No, great. At first, I thought he would be a prude, considering the way he was dressed. I thought for sure he'd try to shut me down or say I was indecent and disgusting…but nope. He's hung, and he has a problem with condoms," said Waylon.

"Oh yeah, they were too small for him? Or were they those cheap kind that are too thin and tear easily?" asked Miles. Waylon was not the least bit offended by his friend's intrusive questions. They had no secrets from one another.

"No, not that. I mean, he _was_ huge…and thick. There was a second there where I thought I could feel him prodding at my stomach he was so deep. It was…amazing, to tell the truth," said Waylo.

"Well, that's great Way. I'm glad you found someone to fuck that could fill all your expectations…among other things…"

"Yeah. When we were done, he did those things I only see them do in the movies," said Waylon.

"He licked your asshole? That's disgusting…"

"No, not that…though I have done that before. What I mean is, when we were finished, he…he looked at me. And hugged me. He kissed me like, all over my face, lips, cheeks…it was very sweet and gentle. Then again when he dropped me at my house, he asked for my number and kissed me again…like we were dating instead of having just fucked in a parked car. It was weird," said Waylon.

Miles' attention was completely on Waylon as he finished his story, his cell phone in his lap forgotten for the moment. He noted the way Waylon's expression soften and a slight smile tilted his lips as he recalled the events of the previous evening. It was very unusual that Waylon showed any kind of emotions when talking about his sexual conquests and one-night-stands. Miles could tell that he was truly interested in the mysterious new man whose only connection to them was through Frank Manera.

"Did you give him your number then, and kiss him goodbye?" asked Miles.

"Yep. Just like a normal date. That's what was strangest of all I guess. I have no idea whether he will call or if I will ever see him again," said Waylon. He sighed and slouched down on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling of the Upshur home. During the morning, Miles had noticed Waylon constantly watching his phone. Waylon knew it was stupid to expect anything to happen so soon, but he could not stop himself from hoping it would happen. Miles could tell Waylon was watching his phone.

"You want him to call. You think he will?" asked Miles.

"Eh, I don't know. I really don't know. I don't know if I'm hoping he will call, or what I want to happen if he did. He's a really serious person, I doubt we are looking for the same things in a relationship," said Waylon.

"What's that supposed to mean? What's does he want that you don't?" asked Miles. Waylon met his friend's blue-green eyes, but his face was unreadable. Waylon was used to rejection. He tended to hide his relationships, never wanting to openly admit that he was committed to someone.

"He wants what everyone wants—well, what most people want at least," said Waylon. "Stability. A serious, lasting relationship with a possibility of a future as a couple. You know I can't be that for anyone, Miles. It's not my style. I'm the kind of guy you hide in the closet so people don't see—or the guy you fuck in a back alley while your wife is waiting for you to come home for dinner on a Friday night. What can someone like me bring to a relationship?"

"Stop talking yourself down like that. You could provide all those things to someone, if you wanted to. You could find someone decent who would treat you well, instead of using you like some kind of disposable fuck toy. How can I make this more clear: you like him, and he likes you. Who knows, maybe something good can come from this," said Miles. He always tended to have an optimistic world view, contrasting Waylon's cynicism. Waylon would rather expect nothing and be surprised if something happened, rather than to expect something and be disappointed when it never came.

Miles was ultimately right, Waylon knew. Having a negative attitude was not good and he needed to remember to relax and enjoy life sometimes. He needed to focus on getting healthier. The lifestyle Waylon was living was fast and full of excess. Miles and Waylon had a similar way of life, but Waylon always seemed to take it a step too far. He dated the wrong kind of people, and then had to answer to the consequences of these unhealthy relationships. Just when Waylon would believe he had hit rock bottom, his poor judgment and uncaring attitude allowed him to fall even further.

Waylon knew he needed to move away from that type of environment. That was why he had decided to take a break from relationships all together. He made the decision to stop dating eight or nine months before, and had managed to stay out of many of the dangerous situations that used to be so common place. Miles and the gang supported the idea—everyone was worried about Waylon's safety from jumping between partners and sketchy situations. They were pleased that Waylon had shown interest in someone different from his usual type. Waylon had broken his self-imposed "vow of chastity" with Eddie.

That was how Miles knew Waylon must really like this Eddie guy. Waylon had been ignoring advances for months, telling most guys that flirted with him to go to hell—until that night. For some strange reason, Miles was happy that Waylon had chosen to end his hiatus with a guy like Eddie. Miles had seen him at the club, his frown and tailored clothing making him look older and the undeniable sexual frustration written on his face. Somehow a man like that was the closest friend of Frank Manera.

Miles understood that Eddie was not involved with the band directly. He had heard talk of Frank's childhood friend with a knack for sewing who was serious and reserved, but ultimately a decent and respectful man who valued his morals and integrity. Miles was rather shocked that he had yielded so easily to Waylon's seduction. That must mean that the attraction was mutual for both men.

Despite their differences in style, and Eddie's blatant dislike for their lifestyle, Miles knew that Waylon would not put much stock in superficial things like that. Waylon may not want to admit it, but he was attracted to his opposite. Lisa and Stella had been excited that Way could finally find someone who could offer a healthy relationship. They were happy to leave with Miles, abandoning their friend at the bar in hopes of creating an opening for Waylon's chivalrous gentleman friend to make his move.

"Wait until I tell Lisa," said Miles with a grin. "I think she is more excited about this than anyone else. You know she's always trying to find you a boyfriend."

"I did not find a boyfriend, Miles. I found a challenge. Don't try to make this into something it's not, okay? It's nothing really."

"Are you blind? I can tell what's happening. Just you wait and see…"

The rest of the week passed uneventfully, until Wednesday arrived. It was Waylon's day off and he was sitting in the small kitchen bar in his home, watching television. His cell was resting on the counter next to the remote control. He had slowly given up hope of receiving any kind of return call from Eddie. He knew he should leave it at that, but deep down, he was constantly wishing he had been the one to ask for a number. Then he would not have to feel so powerless.

"Waylon? I'm about to go to work. You staying in, or going to see Miles?" asked Alma Park. She entered the room, a long French braid draped over her shoulder and wearing her waitress uniform. She picked up her keys from their usual place on the shelf and looked over her son.

"I don't know mom. I might go visit Miles, but probably not until the afternoon. Not sure though, he might want to go watch Chris again," said Waylon.

"What is that boy waiting for, a chance to fall out of the sky! He should just talk to the guy,' said Alma with a sigh. "Anyways, I am off to work. If you do go make sure you text me, okay? I worry. She kissed Waylon on the cheek and darted out the door. Waylon nodded and poured more cereal, attempting to focus on the crime drama that was on television when his phone began to ring on the counter. It was an unknown number, and Waylon frowned at the phone before answering.

"Hello?"

"Waylon…" The voice was unmistakable, drawing an automatic smile from Waylon. Eddie. Waylon slowly pushed his half-eaten cereal away and ran his hand through his hair nervously. He had never felt this way when receiving a call from one of his past conquests. "It's me, Eddie."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not sure if you know this, but your voice is pretty distinct. So what's up?" asked Waylon. His voice always seemed to have a funny twist in his intonation, which Eddie always noticed. Even though he could not see Waylon, he knew he was smiling, and that, in turn, caused Eddie to smile just picturing it in his mind. This might actually be worse than a high school crush.

"I was wondering if you would like to accompany me tonight? Perhaps we could go to dinner together, or something, if that's okay—and if you have no previous engagements, of course," said Eddie. At this point, Waylon placed his fist over his face, trying to keep the huge, stupid smile from his face. He failed miserably.

"Do you always have to talk so strange and formal, Eddie?" asked Waylon before he paused, humming into the phone. "Well…well, okay. It'd be good to get out of the house, or whatever. Want to meet somewhere at eight o'clock?"

"No. I'll pick you up at your house. I will send you a message before I arrive. Is this acceptable?"

"Uh, sure thing, _darling_ , hope to see you soon Eddie," said Waylon, adding emphasis to the world 'darling' in an attempt to sound more like Eddie. It was crazy, but for some reason, Eddie actually seemed to want to get to know him better. Waylon could not fathom why he felt this way, considering their vastly different lifestyles, but if Eddie was willing to try then so was he. Who knew? Maybe something good could come out of their chance meeting at a dive bar.

After the call, Waylon was surprised and excited. He knew he needed to control his emotions, and especially his hormones, but he could not stop himself from laughing after Eddie hung up. He left his cereal dish in the kitchen sink, still in disbelief that Eddie wanted to see him a second time—for a dinner date, no less. He was glad that Eddie called so early so he could pass the time cleaning up and doing chores around the house. Otherwise, the anticipation of the evening would threaten to overwhelm him.

Waylon dusted the furniture, wiped the counters, took out the trash, swept the floor, cleaned the bathroom, and raked the leaves in the backyard. He was not normally so industrious at home, but he needed something to occupy his mind while he waited. His mother would be shocked at his unusual behavior.

Eddie did not know what the hell had happened. When he decided to call Waylon, it felt as if something in his brain stopped for a moment, and he was unable to think about anything but his desperate need to see Waylon and talk to him one more time. He was constantly thinking about him during the week, wondering if Waylon was thinking about him at all, or about their Saturday night together.

He was lucky that Frank did not come home early. He did not want to have to withstand constant torment from his friend's jokes about the fact that Eddie had made a date with a man eight years younger than him. His train of thought stopped the second he realized he had just referred to their meeting as a date. Eddie had a date. A date with a man who was much too young, too liberal, and too different from anyone he had previously dated. How should he even start to date someone like Waylon?

Eddie tended to take his dates to fancy restaurants in order to impress them, but he felt that would be too formal for Waylon. He had no idea where to take him, and even less of an idea what they would talk about considering they had so few things in common. Talking about music had never been something Eddie enjoyed, and he could not imagine Waylon wanting to hear him drone on about his bridal clothing business. Talking about work with his young date would be very strange. Maybe the date was not such a good idea after all, but it was already set and Eddie would never cancel—it was incredibly impolite. Only time would tell whether he had made a mistake.

The hours passed too slowly for both parties. They were both nervous about what could happen, their anxiety palpable. Eddie knew he was going into new territory, unknown and foreign. He had no idea the kind of interactions they would have on their date.

Around six o'clock, Waylon began to get ready. He felt like an idiot, having no idea how to behave when he had a date. A date! He could not believe it, much less accept the fact that he had agreed so easily. He had to shower and sift through his closet to find some of his more presentable clothes that he wore less often. Most of his clothing was broken, torn, worn or old. He put on his favorite pair of black boxers and a tank, then managed to find some almost new, black pants and a nice blue shirt. He even cleaned his boots, though he wondered if that wasn't taking it a step too far. Waylon's mother was beyond surprised when she came home to find the house cleaned and her son in front of the bathroom mirror, fussing with his hair, and wearing the most presentable outfit she had seen him wear in possibly years.

"Waylon? Are you using hair gel? You and Miles going out or something?" she asked with barely contained shock, unsure what to make of Waylon's new attitude. He had not mentioned any special upcoming event, and she had no idea what to make of the strange, grooming behavior and nice clothes.

"Nah, I'm not seeing Miles tonight. I'm going out with someone else," said Waylon.

"I see…well, I'm about to go out with Dana. Don't come home too late, okay?" A part of Alma was unsure how to react to the news that her son had a date, but it was good to see this side of Waylon. Was he actually considering a serious, loving relationship with another person? That was good news to Alma who was all too familiar with his disillusioned and cynical view on relationships. She knew Waylon's inclination to reject relationships had a lot to do with the way his father had abandoned them both. He saw relationships as empty promises that would leave him alone in the end, thus he preferred nothing beyond casual encounters. Alma supported her son's lifestyle and never questioned his sexual orientation. All she wanted for her son was a caring, stable relationships where he could feel loved. Maybe the person coming around that night could be the one to give him that?

Eddie was accustomed to dressing formally. Even when he was forced to go to one of Frank's concerts, Eddie had no problem picking out clothing that reflected his character. Usually, he wore long-sleeved shirts, jackets, ties and other formal clothing that seemed to come right out of the fifties. Sometimes people would ridicule his choices, or rather, Frank was always teasing him, but Eddie did not care. He still preferred to dress formal, feeling most at home in a full suit, jacket, vest and tie.

For the date that evening, Eddie attempted to dress as casual as possible. He chose a brown jacket over a black shirt to appear more "youthful" in a failed attempt to have more in common with Waylon. He knew the night was bound to be one disaster after another. As the time crept closer and closer, he decided to grab the keys and leave instead of waiting any longer. Instinct told Eddie that he should bring something to offer his date, but he found every possible idea lacking. What would a man—a very young man—like Waylon want with flowers, chocolates, or some other kitsch? Ultimately, someone as into free-love and the alternative scene as Waylon would be bored to tears with an evening spent with someone like Eddie. The evening would be a disaster and Waylon would end up rejecting him. Eddie pushed the onslaught of negative thoughts from his mind in order to calm his nerves.

He arrived on time and got out of the car, leaning casually against it while he waited patiently. Waylon appeared ten minutes later and Eddie was startled at how formal and tidy he appeared, though he somehow managed to retain his rebellious air. He could not help thinking that Waylon looked cute. Ridiculously cute.

"I thought you were going to message me before you got here. You're lucky I checked outside, I was waiting for your text," said Waylon.

"I wanted my arrival to be a surprise, darling. Are you ready, then?" asked Eddie.

"I'm always ready, Eddie," said Waylon with a sly grin.

Eddie promptly held the door to the car open for his date. Waylon got into the car, noting how Eddie had taken pains not to look quite as adult-though he failed at looking completely informal.

There was obviously a great attempt on Eddie's part to look more relaxed, despite the air of responsibility that always surrounded him. He was polite, courteous and gentlemanly, treating his male date the same way he would anyone else. A polite smile was lit up his face as he began to drive. Originally, Eddie had planned to take Waylon to a nearby restaurant that was not too formal but was still one of Eddie's favorites due to the variety of food and the friendliness of the employees. He hoped the relaxed atmosphere would help him be more relaxed on their date. His hands automatically steered him toward the well-known destination.

Things happened so fast, Eddie barely had time to react and pull off the main roadway into a vacant lot and put the car into park. His gaze darted in all directions, as if someone would jump out of the bushes at any moment and catch them. Between Eddie's legs was Waylon Park, his face buried in his crotch and mouth wrapped around his cock. Waylon rested one hand on his thigh as he continued to gobble his cock, managing to keep his throat relaxed and take him all in despite his considerable length and girth.

Eddie was completely flushed, wondering how the hell it had come to this? Did they have no self-control? He was embarrassed, especially because he had intended to discuss boundaries in their relationship to keep it from being only about sex as it was on their first meeting. But Waylon acted fast, and his seductive actions made it too easy for him to chase away all of Eddie's rational thoughts. There was a teasing touch to his thighs, followed by Waylon's warm breath along his zipper. Eddie slammed on the brakes and parked quickly to avoid causing a traffic accident. He sat in the parked car, attempting to slow his breaths and collect his thoughts.

Waylon was too skilled with his tongue. One hand gripped the thick base of Eddie's member, his fingers stroking up and down, massaging as he began to suck lightly and lick along the tip. With each movement, he took slightly more of the intimidating length into his mouth until he had a little less than half his length submerged in his mouth. Waylon was proud of his accomplishment as he continued to work his tongue and lips. Eddie tried desperately to remedy the situation, fingers threading through Waylon's hair roughly. He had absolutely no idea the correct way to ask someone to stop sucking his dick.

Waylon saw his reaction as a great sign and he sped up, his movements becoming much more aggressive. Eddie's moans soon filled up the car as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the car seat. He could not believe what a disaster their date had already become.

"Please…" said Eddie, haltingly, before he could press a hand to his mouth to muffle the sounds. Waylon had transformed him into a mess of moans and guttural sounds. The uncontrollable spasms in his pelvis told him there was precious little time before he reached his climax.

Waylon's fingers sought to stimulate further down as his hand pushed further into Eddie's pants. He carefully massaged his balls, rubbing in the traces of saliva that spilled from the corners of his mouth. It was one of the most complicated and difficult blowjobs he had given, and he was proud of his handiwork. He felt please that his skills could make Eddie lose control so thoroughly.

Eddie's eyes clenched tighter and his hips rose automatically, no longer able to hold back. Waylon nearly drowned in the release, the sticky fluid filling his mouth which was still wrapped around the intruding member, taking as much of his length into his throat as possible.

"Ahh," the moan that Eddie gave following his orgasm was elevated but also masculine. It took him several moments before his breathing returned to normal. Waylon slowly sat up, licking his lips and looking at Eddie. His proud expression resembled a soldier just having returned from winning a battle.

"Mmm, you taste good. Did you like it, Eddie?"

"Are you out of your mind? We almost got into an accident!" Eddie's usually perfect hair had become displaced, a few unruly strands falling into his eyes. His face was a mixture of satisfaction and annoyance. Waylon could not help but laugh at the sight—made even funnier by how easy it had been to achieve. Eddie had offered no objection at the time.

"If you didn't want me to suck your dick, it would have been simple to stop me, Eddie. You could have pushed me back in my seat…but you didn't. Why don't you just do us both favor and admit it—you're as big of a pervert as I am."

"There is a place and a time for such behavior, Waylon! That was completely dangerous, and irresponsible, and…"

"Exciting? Admit it, you loved it. I could hear it in all the sounds you were making. We didn't crash! Everything went fine, and you got a blowjob," said Waylon. Eddie did not know whether to laugh or cry. Waylon's laugh made him look like a child about to cause mischief and loving every minute of it. He could not deny that he had enjoyed everything Waylon did with his mouth, but he was not about to say that out loud. It may have been easy for him to stop the action, but it would have been impossible for him to willingly end the sensation of Waylon's tongue on his sex.

Eddie started the car and drove to the restaurant as quickly as possible, not wanting to give Waylon any further opportunities to seduce him while he was driving. The place was more of a family restaurant and he immediately regretted the decision when he saw all the happy families dining, while he escorted his succubus of a date who derived great pleasure from teasing him in public.

"Have whatever you like, it's on me," said Eddie as he sat at a table near the windows. Waylon glanced at the menu, a crooked smile on his lips as he flipped through the pages.

"Good evening! I'm Lucy, and I'll be your waitress tonight. Are you two ready to order?"

"But Eddie, I already ate…"

"Do not start with me, Waylon," said Eddie before clearing his throat. "Yes, I would like to order a steak, garnished with mashed potatoes, a side salad and a glass of iced tea to drink, please."

"I'll have a burger with fries and a Coke—lots of ice, Lucy, thanks a bunch," said Waylon. The waitress took their menus and returned to the kitchen. After she departed, the atmosphere at the table was uneasy, the tension palpable between them, especially for Eddie who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Sorry. I know I probably shouldn't have done that, Eddie, but it was…really hard to resist. Plus, it could have been worse—I could have tried to go down on you here in the restaurant…which is actually not a bad idea. Hey, I should try…"

"Please, restrain yourself," Eddie muttered, unable to tell if Waylon was joking or not. His date seemed very amused by the situation, slowly running his tongue across his lips, forcing Eddie to divert his eyes.

"I fit so much of you in my mouth earlier. Can you believe that? It was seriously an achievement for me. I deserve a medal or something," said Waylon, using his hands to illustrate his best guess of Eddie's size and then aimed the phantom phallus at his mouth. At that point, Eddie could have died of embarrassment.

"Please, for the love of…"

"Alright, alright. Sorry. I'll change the subject," said Waylon.

Both were silent as they waited for the waitress to bring their soda and iced tea. Waylon began toying with his silverware while Eddie stared at him, trying to come up with something to talk about. It was just as Eddie had feared, they had nothing in common—nothing to talk about.

"So, tell me, what are you studying right now, Waylon?"

"Nothing. I dropped out of school five years ago, and I've been working at the market since then. I'm a cashier. It's weird but sometimes, I get tips. Can you believe that? People give me cash tips. Usually it's older women just trying to be charitable…but sometimes, it's older men, and I can tell it's because they're just as perverted as you, Eddie."

Eddie choked loudly on a sip of his tea as he listened. It seemed that Waylon would always find a way to steer the conversation toward something inappropriate. He was making it nearly impossible to carry on a civil conversation.

"Well, I finished high school. After that, I decided to find a way to open a business which I had in mind for some time. I was fortunate that I found a place to open my shop so quickly and I am rather proud of how much it has prospered," said Eddie.

"What kind of business?" asked Waylon, watching Eddie with a curious expression. Eddie looked away and took a deep breath, preparing for the ridicule that usually followed.

"I'm a tailor. I own a clothing store, and we specialize in wedding dresses, tuxedos, and other formal attire," said Eddie. He stared across the restaurant, waiting for a sarcastic or hurtful comment. When no comment came, Eddie slowly shifted his eyes back onto Waylon. To his surprise, he found his companion smiling.

"I always wanted to learn how to make clothes. You can probably tell I like to wear my own kind of style, alternative, grunge, whatever. Every time I would try to alter my clothes, I just ended up destroying them. Mom would get so pissed when I would tear apart perfectly good clothes in an attempt to make something new. She was right though, everything I made was shit," said Waylon. Eddie was shocked at Waylon's honest interest in his trade. It was a refreshing change from the usual mocking attitude of others that found out he had a passion for wedding attire.

Eddie was pleased that Waylon had an interest in fashion and design, even if it was not the style Eddie enjoyed. He did not have much experience designing or sewing anything like what Waylon would probably wear, but it was a good starting point for a conversation.

"So you tear up your pants on purpose?" asked Eddie.

"Yes indeed," said Waylon, grinning. "These are the only pants I haven't gotten around to adjusting. I do it on purpose, because it looks cool, but my mom insisted that I leave at least one pair of nice pants."

"Your mother is very strict with you?" asked Eddie.

"Not at all! She gives me all the freedom I want, really. She encourages me to express myself through my wardrobe, but she just knows there could come a time when I needed a nicer outfit. I mean, like now."

The conversation began to flow much better by that point. They spoke of many different topics and there was hardly any uncomfortable silences. Waylon discussed his taste in music, his love of reading, and his obsession with collecting vintage bottle caps. He knew it was a stupid hobby, but it was something he enjoyed and it passed the time. Eddie was fascinated by the conversation. Even though they were discussing something so trivial, Waylon seemed very passionate and Eddie thought he might be catching a glimpse of what Waylon was like when he was not putting on any type of act.

Their food arrived and they ate in relaxed silence. Waylon loaded his fries up with ketchup to the point that his hands looked as though he had recently performed surgery. Eddie pushed a napkin closer to Waylon, in case he needed it. He politely hinted that there may have been some leftovers on his date's face.

"You're always so formal, even when you're eating," said Waylon.

"Well, I always strive to present a good image. My mother insisted that I always look presentable, it's a courtesy to others around you. My mother is a somewhat old-fashioned in much of her thinking, but she was always very warm and loving."

"Was there anyone else, besides your mother?" asked Waylon.

"No. My father died when I was very small, and I never got to know him. My mother says we are very physically similar, but my personality is quite different from his. I never knew what it was to have a father figure growing up," said Eddie.

"Yeah, I didn't either," said Waylon. "I have some memories about my father. And not to be rude but, I would really rather not talk about them." Waylon's voice turned cold at the mention and his eyes stared at the table, as though he were remembering something. Eddie decided it was probably best to change the subject.

"So how long have you know your friend?" asked Eddie.

"You mean, Miles? Eh, feels like my whole life. We've known each other since we were kids, and we've always been close. He was my only moral support through some hard times and I owe him a lot. Sometimes he can be annoying and I wonder why I put up with him, but deep inside, I know he's a great friend despite how difficult he can be at times. He definitely makes my life more interesting."

"I know that feeling," said Eddie. Waylon smiled and it took Eddie's breath away. He could look so innocent and young when he gave a genuine smile. Eddie was sure that Waylon was completely unaware that he was even smiling, and it felt good to observe him acting so naturally.

Finally, Waylon grabbed his napkin and wiped his face and hands clean, leaving his plate of food empty. Eddie finished soon after, and he smiled about how quickly they had warmed up to one another.

"Do you want to go anywhere else in particular?" Eddie asked when they were back in his car.

"Wherever you want is fine," said Waylon, shaking his head while looking out the window.

The pair arrived at a nearby park and decided to walk around the lantern lit pathways. Waylon seemed distracted as he walked. Eddie watched him closely, anticipating what he would finally say when he broke from his thoughts.

"Why did you ask me out, Eddie?" asked Waylon, stopping suddenly. He turned to look back at Eddie, studying his face.

"Why, I wanted to see you. I asked for your number and told you that I would call you," said Eddie. He had expected some variation of this question at some point during the night, especially considering their unusual first meeting. What he did not expect was how defensive Waylon seemed as he asked. Eddie took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts. He knew he had to be careful with his answers.

"You didn't have to do this. I'm not used to going out to dinner or anything like that. I liked having sex with you, it was a lot of fun that night in your car—but you don't owe me anything for it. I don't need you to feel obligated…"

"I didn't ask you out because of any obligation. I wanted to see you again, I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to see how you were doing, and go out with you," said Eddie.

"But…why? I don't get it. The date, dinner, this galant attitude. This isn't normal, and I just can't figure out why. What do you want from me, Eddie? Are you making fun of me somehow? Rub my face in your success? I mean, it's obvious you have a lot of nice things and a successful business, I could tell all that just by looking at you."

"Of course not. I would never do that to you—or to anyone. I don't behave his way because I want to look or act superior to anyone. I asked you out because I wanted to see you again. I asked you out because I like you, Waylon. I like you…" said Eddie. Waylon's eyes widened as he stared up at Eddie. As much as he wanted to deny it in that moment, it was impossible for him to ignore the attraction they both obviously felt.

Waylon was usually very laid back with other people, but he found himself feeling nervous and full of doubts. He was not used to being taken out on real dates, much less spoken to so kindly and treated so nicely. He did not have a good record for healthy relationships. No one he had ever gone out with had treated him the way Eddie did, despite having only just met him. Waylon was far out of his element.

"You like me, Eddie? Like, in a serious way, or just looking for a good time…"

"No. I did not ask you out to take advantage of you and gain any kind of sexual favor. I honestly mean that. I want to get to know you better, to build something real with you. I know it will be difficult and we are still virtually strangers…"

"We have nothing in common, Eddie. We are as different as can be. Isn't there someone your own age or status that you could date?"

Edie mused for a moment about the words Waylon was saying and the childish pout on his face. Waylon's eyes were full of questions and doubt. He reminded Eddie of an abandoned puppy that was lost and unsure where to run. Slowly, Eddie began to understand. Waylon had never been in a serious relationship.

It was as adorable as it was sad. Perhaps no one had ever taken Waylon on a real date in the past. It would explain why he was so suspicious of Eddie's behavior and why he was so insecure about where this could possibly lead. Eddie reached out and took Waylon's hands in his own, shocked at how icy he found them. He quickly shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over Waylon's shoulders before wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close.

"No. There is no one else I want right now, except you. I am aware that we are very different, and that is strange. I know you do not know me very well, and you are right not to trust someone so easily. But please, I do hope you will give me the opportunity to earn your trust?"

Waylon felt so warm in Eddie's arms. He closed his eyes, leaning into the offered warmth, and inhaled the scent of Eddie's cologne, filling his lungs with the alluring, manly aroma. He slowly glanced up, admiring Eddie's handsome face and feeling unnerved by the intensity in his blue eyes.

He hated that Eddie was so attractive. He hated the intoxicating scent, the inviting warmth, and the way that he felt so safe wrapped in those arms. He hated how close they were, and how helpless he was to push away. But being surrounded by Eddie maybe have been the most enjoyable sensation he had ever felt.

"Then…you want to go out with me, again?" asked Waylon.

"Yes. I would very much like to go out with you again. Then again. And again and again. I want you to meet my friends, even though they're complete misfits, I want to take you home, or take you to the movies, or anywhere that you want. But only if you want to. I won't force anything on you," said Eddie. The smooth intonation of Eddie's voice had a knack for making Waylon feel at ease. The way he could sound so smooth and gentle, while still sounding manly and powerful. It was an intoxicating mixture.

The words were overwhelming. Waylon leaned in to rest his head again Edde's shoulder while holding eye contact. Eddie looked confused by the reaction. He began rubbing small circles into Waylon's back as he held him, noting how the action seemed to greatly relax the man in his arms.

"Enough Gluskin, you're going to put me to sleep if you keep that up. Unless that's part of what turns you on. You want to take advantage of me while I'm asleep?"

"I don't need you to be asleep to take advantage of you, darling. I only have to touch your hips to drive you mad with lust," said Eddie. Waylon was surprised at Eddie's observational skills. It only took one night for him to figure out that Waylon's hips were one of his most sensitive spots. He hated how that fact made Eddie even more attractive in his eyes.

"Alright, Eddie. I'll go out with you once, and then again, and then again. Until we get sick of each other," said Waylon. The ringing laugh Eddie gave in response had Waylon smiling as well. It was a nice laugh and it made him seem so much more relaxed and attractive. Waylon had never felt like he wanted to date someone before, but it seemed natural to try out a relationship, considering how close had already become.

Eddie stared into Waylon's light brown eyes. He thought they were beautiful and he compared their color to honey. He was so lost in those eyes that he could not stop himself from leaning in to press a soft kiss to Waylon's lips.

"Really? You want to kiss me? Even though I sucked you off just a few hours ago?"

"Must you always ruin the moment, darling?"

It was Waylon's turn to laugh as he leaned in to rub his nose against Eddie's chin. He could not get enough of his seductive scent. "Miles always says I manage to fuck up everything around me. So maybe you are onto something," said Waylon. He could not stop the intrusive memory that came to mind of Miles ensuring him that he would be hearing from Eddie soon. Waylon shook his head. "I hate how he's always right…"

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Love is in the air (?). I had not intended to update yet, but the ideas are flowing these days. I decided not to miss an opportunity to let my muse run free. I even have a draft for the next chapter already written, but it needs further development when I have the time to read it while paying attention to the other projects I have currently. So I hope you enjoyed this, because you may have a slightly more distance update next time!

 **Translator's Note** : I am working every day on translating more in between my other projects. I try to do it as quickly as possible, but I also strive to make it a good translation to do justice to this absolutely amazing story.


	3. No, I ain't got the power anymore

**No, I ain't got the power anymore**

* * *

 **Chapter Summary** : While Waylon and Eddie begin to see one another more frequently, some of their closest friends get suspicious about the nature of these disappearances.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Remember when I told you I would update in a thousand years? I lied. I can't help it, my ideas flow so well. I have to get them out or they torment me.  
In this chapter, there is a mention of Chris Walker. Remember, all the guys are good here, but Jeremy Blaire is a universal idiot apparently.  
The song today is Quicksand by David Bowie, my favorite artist, and Mrs. Alma Park's also (?)  
This is dedicated to all the sweet people that made my weekend with the amount of fan arts and things that came out about Eddie. Did you all hear the audio Valentine special Red Barrels released with the voice of Eddie Gluskin? It was the best xD  
Pica, you're an awesome friend I can share my madness with, this is for you 3 with love

* * *

Things progressed much easier than Eddie would have thought. During the week, Eddie and Waylon would date occasionally. They had gone to the movies, out to dinner, and even spent some time together at Eddie's house. Thankfully, Frank was busy that week fixing things with his band as the date of their comeback special approached. The band had finally agreed to create a new album. As a result of their decision, Eddie obtained a week of tranquility, free from the presence of all of his friends.

Not that he wanted to hide Waylon from his friends. Quite the opposite: Eddie wanted to say it openly, when they were all present, after things were a little more formal between him and Waylon. He was not sure how to categorize their current relationship. He preferred to be patient and allow the relationship to progress naturally.

Meanwhile, Waylon had not mentioned anything to Mile—or anyone else. He had no idea how to broach the subject. It still sounded absurd to admit aloud that he was dating Eddie Gluskin. Both parties wanted to be sure about their status before initiating any discussion with their respective friends. They had only gone out on a few dates. It was still unclear exactly what kind of relationship was developing.

Waylon became increasingly comfortable with the idea of going out with Eddie. At first, Waylon was unconvinced of Eddie's sincerity and was surprised each time he came by to pick him up from his home or the supermarket.

Eddie always put his best foot forward on their dates, being chivalrous and attentive at all times. He waited for Waylon to feel more relaxed and comfortable around him. What Eddie did not realize is that his mannerisms were actually having the complete opposite effect.

"You don't have to act so formal, Eddie. People are going to think you're my father," said Waylon as Eddie walked him to the car after his work shift one day. He smiled patiently as he buckled his seatbelt, at Eddie's insistence. "Imagine the kind of explanation I would have to give if they see me making out with my dad…"

Waylon's comments never failed to elicit a surprised and offended expression from Eddie. He found it so endearing that he could not stop himself from brushing his lips gently against Eddie's. Waylon made no effort to hide the enjoyment he got out of teasing Eddie.

Sex was always a part of their interactions. Waylon preferred to demonstrate his affections towards Eddie physically. Eddie regretted that he was not able to harness his baser desires. All of his intentions flew out the window once they were both turned on. Eddie believed that as the "responsible adult" he should be the one to set limits, but his attempts just made Waylon laugh in his face.

"Relax, we're not doing anything wrong," said Waylon, snuggling comfortably against Eddie's broad chest. Eddie could not deny how much he enjoyed Waylon's warm body against his own. There was really no greater feeling than snuggling together after an orgasm.

A couple more weeks passed, and they continued to date. They had decided not to go out as much, agreeing to see one another during the weekend and some evenings during the week. It took some work to get their respective schedules to line up. Waylon worked early in the afternoon, but sometimes he would also do odd-jobs for neighbors, such as mowing lawns and painting to earn extra money.

Eddie's schedule was flexible, since most of his sewing creations were handled through order forms. He only needed to go into the shop for measurements, fittings, and to arrange the sample pieces on the shelves. Although his store was open, there were still many details to hammer out before it felt officially complete.

It was Waylon's day off. In the mornings, he liked to eat breakfast in front of the small TV on the kitchen counter while chatting with his mother as she finished getting ready for work. She worked in a small vegetarian restaurant downtown, along with her best friend, Dana.

Waylon always admired his mother's carefree attitude. She was very confident, but also had a tendency to get distracted. She was constantly planning different activities with her friend. Age did not stop either of the women. Waylon did not realize that his busy, distracted mother was also acutely aware of every small change in her son. Waylon's mood and wellbeing were always a top priority for Alma.

"It's a girl," she said that morning as she left her room, staring at Waylon. "Hmm…no, it's not a girl…it's a boy! You've been dating someone for the past two weeks, right?" She wore a huge smile on her face that caused Waylon to choke on his breakfast.

"Where do you get this stuff?" asked Waylon, nervously. He tried to distract himself by pushing his fork around on the plate. His mother was not fooled.

"I knew it! I knew I was right. You're dating someone—is he handsome? You've been going out more often, using the cologne I bought you for your birthday…Don't think I can't see what's going on, Way." His mother's smile widened as she walked up and ruffled Waylon's hair.

"It's not a big deal. Mom, seriously. Don't make too much of this…"

"Like I wouldn't take it seriously! You haven't been out with anyone in a long time. Even your face has changed…I just hope they're a good person, Waylon. It's important also to use protection, you never know what someone has been exposed to…"

"Mom! What did I say? Don't tell me things like that…" Alma Park was the only person on Earth that could embarrass Waylon. She was always open to questions, and happy to give detailed accounts from her youth.

In a drawer on her bedside table, Alma kept a picture of herself with Waylon on her shoulders, holding up a poster at a large rally. She was an environmentalist in her youth, always fighting for Mother Earth and protesting against various wars and political problems. She had never given up her fighting spirit—in fact it was what Waylon admired the most about her. He had inherited his own free spirit and way of thinking from seeing the world through his mother's eyes.

"So? You think I can't tell these things, Waylon. You're going out more often, getting more phone calls. I still remember how before I had you…"

"Please. I don't want to hear it," said Waylon. Alma had never been one to hide details about her life from her son. She preferred to keep an open dialog. She was happy to discuss any topic—no matter how strange or uncomfortable.

They had talked about recreational drug use and the political and social aspects of sexuality. She knew and accepted that Waylon had a preference for men, though he occasionally "slipped" with a girl.

"I haven't heard about you dating anyone since…what was his name? Jeremy, I think? I never liked him—I hope this new guy is friendlier…and cuter. Remember when you tried dating Lisa?"

"Yeah, Mom, I remember when that happened…" muttered Waylon. When he had first met Lisa, she had immediately made it clear she had intentions of being more than friends.

Unfortunately for Lisa, Waylon had never been interested in a romantic relationship with a woman, though he had inclinations at times. Lisa respected his choice to stay casual, allowing him to set the limits to their relationship. They both managed to become good friends, even though their romantic relationship never progressed.

"I hope you didn't let her down too hard…"

"Don't worry, Mom. I cleared up everything. I'm pretty sure she likes someone else now," said Waylon. It was strange how after they broke up, Lisa seemed determined to set Waylon up with a new partner. She was not the only one in their group of friends concerned with Waylon's dating habits. Stella, Miles, and even his own mother were worried about Waylon's continued refusal to seek out any kind of lasting relationship.

"I'd like to meet this new man, of course. Would it be too much of a bother to bring him to the house at some point? I was wondering why my son was behaving so strangely these past weeks. I mean, just look," Alma said, sweeping her hand around the room which was much cleaner than usual. Waylon's tendency to clean when he was nervous had unexpected consequences around their home. He smiled as he took his mother's hand.

"I will bring him, okay? But don't make a big deal out of it. Nothing is really official yet. Now, Dana's going to be irritated if you are late to meet her…"

Meanwhile, Eddie frowned, staring at the mouth of Frank Manera as he devoured a piece of toast with jam and cream cheese. Eddie had planned to start his morning with a quiet breakfast. He had not expected to be interrupted by Frank. He was always showing up uninvited.

"What do you say, Ed?" asked Frank, his mouth and beard full of crumbs, several dropping onto the table as he spoke.

"I told you, finish chewing before you speak. It is unpleasant. Learn some manners," said Eddie, holding his own cup of coffee and sneering at Frank's poor table etiquette.

"We haven't seen you much these past weeks. You don't want to come to rehearsals…Chris and Billy are worried. They think you've finally wised up and decided to stop being my friend. I told them that was ridiculous, you love me too much," said Frank, sucking jam from his fingers and smiling as he pushed his sunglasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were hiding something…"

Eddie's eyes darted to the opposite direction of Frank, attempting to keep his face from betraying his thoughts. If Frank found out, everyone would know. The man was anything but discreet.

"Stop spouting nonsense," said Eddie. "The only thing that happened is that I have more orders and work than before, so I require more time for fabric shopping and taking commissions. It is nothing unusual. You should all be happy that my business is doing so well."

"We are happy for you, Eddie boy! But we still want to see you. Come on! Leave a night for us, next Saturday. It's our first concert since the reunion. I mean, it's only going to be at Trager's club but still, it's something. At least people will know that we're back. Come on, what do you say? Maybe you could get lucky again, like the last time you were there," said Frank, his grin widening as he adjusted his glasses again. Eddie rolled his eyes.

"This weekend?" asked Eddie.

"Yeah. No, wait, it's next weekend…I think. It is definitely a Saturday, but probably next week. Just leave it open. I don't take no for an answer, Gluskin," said Frank. Eddie looked thoughtful for a moment.

He did not have any concrete plans with Waylon past the current week, and those were all afternoon outings, and then Saturday night. They planned to spend the night at home, possibly watching a movie. Eddie just needed a way to get rid of Frank that day, so he nodded slightly at his friend.

"Alright, alright…I'll go. But you had better not abandon me there again…"

Waylon changed and headed toward Miles' house. He felt bad that he had not seen his friend as much. He knew Miles was pining day and night over his crush and probably had not even noticed. Miles was trying to join the same association where Chris Walker worked as a volunteer—an organization devoted to the rescue and care of abandoned animals. Miles insisted on joining, despite his own criminal record of some vandalize he was accused of during a protest years earlier. Miles was quickly approaching stalker status.

Waylon barely touched the knob before the door opened. There was Miles, phone in hand, staring at him with a confused expression.

"Are you going out with Eddie Gluskin?" asked Miles. Oh shit. How in the world had that question even come up? Waylon momentarily imagined a gossip magazine with a headline about the last blowjob he gave Eddie on the front page.

"Wha…why would you ask that out of nowhere?" asked Waylon.

"Your mom asked me if I knew the guy who stopped by your house just a second ago. Are you guys dating? Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Because nothing is official yet," snapped Waylon, "now, can I come in?" Waylon pushed Miles slightly as he walked straight into the house and toward Miles' room. Miles was hot on his heels, typing impossibly fast on his phone.

"Stop! Don't say anything. I'll introduce him soon…" said Waylon.

"Now you try to say it's nothing serious. I'm offended you kept this from me, Park. I thought our friendship was special?"

"Shut up," said Waylon. He sat down next to Miles on his bed. Waylon leaned back on his elbows as Miles typed away on his phone before finally setting it aside.

"Okay if it's nothing serious yet, why are you already introducing him to Mrs. P?"

"Because she asked to meet him. You know I don't like bringing people to our house, having them judge our home and lifestyle—not that I'm ashamed of it. I'll probably wait a few weeks before I introduce him anyways…"

"Are you waiting until it's official? You want to be his boyfriend?" asked Miles. Waylon had not considered what kind of relationship he wanted with Eddie Gluskin. Spending time together felt good, and he found him amusing and very attractive. He also liked his hobbies and personality—even the way he was so proper and polite in public and private. Waylon smiled involuntarily at the thought.

"I don't know. Really, I don't know which way this is going. I just know that I'm having a lot of fun. I like it. I think I like him," said Waylon. Miles was shocked, but it was a good kind of shock. It was unusual for his friend to openly admit to his feelings for another person. Miles thought it was great news.

Despite not knowing much about Gluskin, Miles knew from others that he was a good man, rumored to be responsible and boring. A man who would be able to treat Waylon with the respect he deserved. It was a great change from Waylon's usual toxic relationships.

"You should give yourself a chance, a real chance, with Eddie…" said Miles.

"And so should you, with Chris," said Waylon.

"Those are different things," said Miles. It was completely illogical the way Miles argued that he could not approach Chris. He'd been working on getting close to the guy for so long. He was obvious about it and most people in the scene had noticed.

It was a long time ago, during a concert. Miles had been in a bad place due to several problems at home. It was common for him to fight with his mom, but that night, things had gotten particularly harsh—so much that he considered leaving home that week. He had no real place to go, knowing Waylon could barely afford to keep food in the house with what little he earned at the supermarket. Miles felt he had no way to escape, and no way to change his situation. He felt hopeless.

Going to the concert had been a big mistake. The music did not help lift his bad mood. If anything, it aggravated the migraine he had felt constantly over the past few days. He decided to take a break from the noise. He needed to clear his ears, and his head. He sought refuge in a hallway where he could hide from the crowd.

He had closed his eyes, recognizing the feeling of tears welling under his eyelids. It had been such a long time since he had cried. Many in his lifestyle saw any outward emotional reaction as a sign of weakness. Miles had always been jealous of Waylon's doting mother. His own parents had never really cared for him.

Miles' mother was more concerned with her career as a reporter than being a mother. She spent most of her time away from home, always absent from any activities or achievements in Miles' life. His father was an accountant in a boring office working long, tiring days, and coming home only to watch TV and sleep. He was never interested in discussing anything with his son.

His father resented his mother's success in her career. He took out his own professional frustration by trashing Miles' mother's career. He would emphasize the futility of working for such a large television network, and accuse her of being corrupt and lacking any accuracy in her investigative information. The week in question, the tension had finally caused the two workaholics to collide and explode. His mother screamed for Miles to get out. He did not need to be told twice.

His disparaging thoughts were interrupted when he heard approaching footsteps. Miles looked at the newcomer. He was the drummer of the band that had played first that evening. He was a large man, stocky, but not in any way unpleasant. Miles had been fascinated by the way he played, striking the drums with strength and speed. Miles could not follow his hands—they were a blur. Miles had commented that he seemed more drum-machine than man.

There was a large scar on the drummer's face, spreading over his nose and forehead, reaching almost to the top of his lips creating a strange sort of "X" on his face. Miles noticed a couple of military dog tags dangling around his neck and assumed that he was maybe a former military officer. He looked young to be former military. Miles wondered if he had been discharged recently.

The drummer's face in the hallway was much different than the severe concentration he had shown on stage. He seemed friendly, relaxed. He smiled at Miles, which left him feeling confused.

"Are you okay?" The drummer asked in a calm voice, taking a seat on the floor in the hallway next to Miles. He had no idea why this man was taking an interest, and forced himself to relax before he could answer.

"Yeah, no big deal. Some problems at home. Nothing important," said Miles.

"If it makes you feel bad, then it is important, don't ya think?" asked the drummer, producing a white handkerchief from his pocket and offering it to Miles. Miles scrubbed violently at his eyes, desperate to erase any evidence that he had been crying.

"Hey, you'll hurt your eyes using it that way, here," he said, pulling Miles' hands away from his face and reclaiming the handkerchief. He then proceeded to dab gently at Miles' face with soft, tender strokes. The cloth was soft, and it smelled good. What the hell was going on? Why did Miles find this man's hands so warm and comforting?

"It's no big deal. It's good to let off steam. I cried this morning…when my mom showed me my father's old military uniform. It's good—it's healthy. I think everyone should do it," he said.

"I think it makes you look weak. It's not good for others to see that," said Miles, automatically. He took the handkerchief back and wiped his eyes with less intensity than before, chasing the new tears that began to run down his cheeks.

"I don't believe that. I think it makes you strong. Being in touch with how you really feel. I think it's a good thing to learn how to show emotions, even at the risk of a little embarrassment. I mean, would you laugh at me, if you saw me crying out there?" he asked. Miles thought he would never dream of laughing at someone like that man. Not only because he was intimidating, but because he was also gentle. Until that night, Miles had not known the two could be combined.

"Why are you being nice to me? You don't know me."

"Why are you sad? Everyone needs someone to talk to when you're feeling down, and someone to laugh with when things are going great. You probably think I'm awkward…Well, I am awkward…and I'm nosy," said the drummer. Miles did not know how to react to that. Somehow, it did not seem intrusive at all. He was friendly, open, and his presence made Miles feel good. Just being near the drummer seemed to help his mood. He made Miles' feelings seem important—and Miles never felt important. "So do you want to talk about what happened?"

"Well…I…" Miles started, but he was unsure how to respond. The drummer seemed so interested in what he had to say. His attention was completely focused on Miles' face. He met his eyes easily with a relaxed and serene expression. He exuded a calm that transferred to Miles. It was very strange. "It's not…it's nothing. It was just a stupid fight at home. Just something my mom said. It's not really that bad…"

"In that case, you should talk to her about how you feel. Maybe she can still make it better peacefully, without arguing. What do you say?" asked the drummer. Miles was quiet, staring down at the ground. He could feel his troubles fading, replaced with an intense desire to know more about the strange new man.

"My name is Miles…Miles Upshur."

"Chris Walker, pleasure to meet you. If you ever need to talk or get something off your chest, feel free to find me. Anytime. I won't even ask questions or say anything at all if you need. That's a promise. Does that sound alright?"

"Sounds good," said Miles, giving a nervous smile. Chris smiled back, and Miles was not sure he had ever seen anything so beautiful. Straight rows of white teeth suited his face and made him look even more cordial and friendly. Miles stomach seemed to flip in that moment. Miles never forgot that meeting. He had kept the handkerchief jealousy guarded since then, despite the disapproval of his friends.

Since then, Miles had developed an infatuation with Chris Walker. He started attending all of the amateur concerts in the area, no matter how trashy the venue, with the intention of encountering Chris again. Chris was big, gentle, and kind to everyone he met. The fact that he was able to be considered one of Frank Manera's best friends attested to his tolerance for all people. Frank had the kind of personality that rubbed many people the wrong way, but Chris seemed genuinely happy to be part of a band with his best friends.

Miles could not tell Chris how he felt. He was too sure such a declaration would be met with rejection, and the fear of that happening kept him from approaching. He was paralyzed with fear anytime he was near Chris, which only made him more afraid that Chris would think he was a weirdo or something. Waylon stressed time and time again that Chris Walker was not the kind of person to judge someone like that. He often repeated that Miles had much to gain, and nothing to lose, by simply talking to the man. Miles remained stubborn in his refusal.

"You're saying I should give Eddie a chance. Well, you should talk. When the hell are you going to tell Chris about how you feel?" asked Waylon, bringing Miles out of his memories and back to the present.

"Don't change the subject! What I'm saying is give this relationship the opportunity to grow into something real—something healthy. You need…"

"Why does everything think putting a label on a relationship magically fixes things?" asked Waylon. Miles only smiled and shrugged his shoulders. They were both stubborn—it was part of what made them such great friends. Miles was dead set on the idea that he could never approach Chris Walker directly and his illogical fear kept him from ever trying.

Waylon, on the other hand, had given up on the idea of a real relationship long ago. It was partially due to the abuse and other problems he had experienced with his old relationships. It had grown so bad he refused to even discuss relationships with anyone. The arrival of a man who could change Waylon's mind about that was a miracle, in Miles' opinion.

"Well. I promise not to be so pessimistic and refuse to give the relationship a chance, as long as you promise that you are going to really work on talking to Chris someday, and telling him how you feel," said Waylon.

"…I'll think about it, okay. I just need time…"

The rest of the afternoon went smoothly. Waylon hung out with Miles, eating pizza and looking at stupid things on the Internet. Eddie managed to get rid of Frank and devoted his afternoon to organizing his outstanding customer orders, making a list of different materials he needed to purchase, and checking on his store.

Waylon had to leave to get ready to go to Eddie's house. Usually, Eddie insisted on picking him up, paying for most of their dates, and dropping him back off at his house. The gentlemanly behavior made Waylon feel like a girl more than anything else. Sometimes he insisted on being able to walk himself.

He made up a reason to leave Miles' house, earning a series of derisive comments and hissing laughter. He told Waylon to check the drawer on his way out because he had some hypoallergenic condoms for him to use. Waylon merely glared before they both laughed together.

Eddie prepared his home for the date, always feeling like it wasn't perfect. There were only a few unimportant things out of place, but in Eddie's eyes, it was completely unacceptable. Everything needed to be perfect for Waylon's visit. He was not sure why he felt that way. It was not like it would be Waylon's first visit to his home, but that day felt different somehow. It was exactly one month that they had been dating.

Although they had not agreed to anything formal, the anniversary of their first date still held meaning. Eddie knew from the beginning how interested he was in Waylon, but he could not freely admit how much he truly liked it, or how good it felt to grow their relationship. The more he got to know Waylon, the more interested he became. He was intrigued by Waylon's rebellious lifestyle and strange view on different issues. He even had grown more accustomed to Waylon's tendency to tease him at every opportunity. Eddie wanted to know more and more about him.

The doorbell rang and Eddie rushed to answer it. There stood Waylon. He always looked cute—his clothes, his smile, everything. Eddie could not resist the immediate need to get close to him. He placed his hand on Waylon's waist and pulled him close, leaning in for a long, lingering kiss. Waylon responded by sliding his arms around Eddie's neck, hugging him. He smiled as he was growing more accustomed to Eddie's affectionate way of greeting him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Gluskin."

"Don't call me that," mumbled Eddie in between leaving a trail of kisses along Waylon's neck, keeping their bodies pressed close. "You brought luggage?"

"Yeah, if you can let go for a minute I could explain," said Waylon, grinning. Eddie reluctantly released Waylon who removed his backpack and sat it near Eddie's couch.

"I brought some things I wanted to show you, but they're fragile," said Waylon. Eddie's face was a mixture of surprise and confusion, which only made Waylon laugh. "No, you old pervert, it's not what you're thinking. They're some records that belonged to my mom. I have to be extra careful. She would kill me if she found out anything had happened to them. There were some songs I wanted you to hear, after we finish watching the movie…"

"Do you know which movie you would like to watch, darling?"

"Oh, are we really going to watch a movie?" asked Waylon. His grin only widened when he met Eddie's disapproving stare. The two prepared for their quiet afternoon together.

Eddie relented and agreed to order a pizza, even though he disapproved of Waylon's unhealthy eating habits. Waylon paid little attention to nutrition. Waylon never had trouble convincing Eddie to agree to his plans. He had no qualms about resorting to whatever means necessary, and he knew all of Eddie's weaknesses.

The pair quickly finished their pizza while sitting on the couch. Eddie leaned slightly sideways and Waylon curled up on his chest, watching the TV. A pair of empty plates and glasses lay on the table beside the half-empty box of pizza.

Although the movie was interesting, Waylon had trouble concentrating. He had too much running through his mind. He felt unable to understand everything happening in his life at that time. It had been a long time since he had felt so comfortable being next to another person, and even better because it was Eddie.

Waylon felt safe and comfortable with Eddie, but he reminded himself everyday how completely different they were. No matter how secure their relationship seemed, Waylon was convinced it was temporary, like all of his previous relationships—like everything in his life, really.

He stared at Eddie as they sat together watching TV. He could feel his hands against his back, comforting without being invasive. He wore a dress shirt that looked untidy after they had been laying together for awhile—a couple buttons were undone and his tie loosened above his neck. A few strands of his always neat hair had escaped and fell into his face which was relaxed, maybe even a little sleepy. Eddie looked casually formal, if that was a thing, and it looked very attractive on him. Waylon was not sure Eddie could dress casually if he tried. Eddie always looked too formal for any occasion. Though instead of turning Waylon off, it had the exact opposite effect. It had gotten to the point where he wondered if he wasn't developing some kind of fetish. Waylon did not want it to change.

Waylon finally allowed his head to rest on Eddie's broad chest, sighing. He stared, trying to memorize every feature and detail. What if Eddie changed his mind about their relationship? By now he must have realized that Waylon could not provide stability in a relationship. He was young, stupid, and irresponsible, while Eddie was moving towards true adulthood.

Surely, Eddie must have other concerns on his minds. Financial things. Grown-up problems Waylon could not even imagine. Maybe Eddie was looking for a wife, children, and white picket fence. Waylon had no place in that kind of lifestyle. The gloomy thoughts caused his posture to change as he shifted uncomfortably. He imagined Eddie in different domestic scenarios—none involving himself.

"Is something the matter, Waylon?" asked Eddie. He gazed down at Waylon's distressed expression and reached out to gently stroke his hair in slow, tender movements. Eddie always had a way of making it difficult for Waylon to speak freely.

"Eh, it's nothing. I was just thinking…"

"What are you thinking about, darling?" asked Eddie. His low, even voice always had a way of relaxing Waylon. Waylon sighed and shifted his body until he was able to look up at Eddie. A large hand smoothed over his face as their eyes met. Eddie's attention was completely focused on Waylon in that moment.

"Eddie…Do you think this will last?" asked Waylon, keeping his voice low in order to hide the anxiety emanating from him in that moment. Eddie's attention was completely focused on Waylon. He tucked Waylon's body close against his own, until they were lying face to face.

"I want this to last," was the answer, after a short reflective period. Eddie pressed his lips to Waylon's for a brief moment, smiling gently as they separated. "Do you want this to last, Waylon?"

"I want to meet your friends, and learn about your life," said Waylon, slowly stroking circles into Eddie's broad chest, then giving a half-smile, "…you know, I would really like to hear the story about how you became friends with Frank Manera. I find it incredible that you two are close friends." Eddie seemed baffled by the unexpected comment. He did not consider the story of their meeting to be anything special.

"It's nothing extraordinary. Frank and I were classmates in school. We were in the same class, and he always had these strange quirks. He was eccentric even then. The teacher would scold him all the time because he never kept quiet," said Eddie, smiling at the memory. School had been a good experience for Eddie, and he enjoyed recalling those memories. Waylon liked hearing stories of Eddie's life, and watching Eddie's face light up as he spoke.

"I bet you were the teacher's pet. You have all the earmarks of being a real tattle-tale, goody-two-shoes…"

"I'm offended, darling," said Eddie, as he began to detail all the interactions and stories about Frank and him growing up. Billy Hope and Chris Walker had attended the same school, and the entire group became friends shortly after Frank and Eddie. They had grown up together, forging a tight bond of friendship. The type of close childhood friendships that are rarely found. Waylon was reminded of his own friendship with Miles as he listened.

"Once, we were going through some trash bin, and I put on some gloves I found in a drawer in my mother's room. I was approximately thirteen years old when this happened. Frank said it was ridiculous, but I refused to go anywhere near a trash bin with my bare hands in case they got dirty. But it turns out, the gloves were the worst possible idea," said Eddie. He shook his head, laughing to himself at the memory. Waylon had already guessed the direction the story would take.

"My hands began to feel strange after a while—very itchy when wearing the gloves. I took them off, and it felt like my skin was burning. Red spots appeared, and kept spreading all the way up my forearm. I have never seen Frank so scared. We both ran to find my mother in the kitchen…"

"Your mother was probably panicked," said Waylon.

"She had worked hard to rid the home of all latex to avoid an allergic reaction, but she had forgotten about the gloves. I remember Frank started yelling that I was dying," said Eddie, having to pause as a chuckle bubbled forth he could not hold back any longer. His laughter was contagious, causing Waylon to join in.

"I find it hard to imagine Frank Manera worried about anything. At least it wasn't so bad. Can you imagine if you discovered your allergy while using a condom. You could have lost your dick!"

"It's not funny, don't laugh," said Eddie, unable to keep up a stern tone as he started laughing.

"You two seem to have been through alot together. Ever been on like, a double date?" asked Waylon.

"Well, not exactly. You see, there was this girl that Frank was crazy about, and…" Eddie cutoff in the middle of his sentence and a long pause followed. Waylon's eyes never left Eddie's face, but his hand had dropped down to Eddie's crotch and was rubbing slowly through the fabric. A small smirk appeared on Waylon's face.

"What happened then, Eddie? Did you go out with the girl he liked or something?"

"Waylon…" Eddie exhaled the name in one stuttering breath as the hand on his groin mapped out his growing arousal, the pressure increasing but the pace remaining slow and steady.

"You both dated her maybe? Or did you have a double date with one of her friends?"

"Yes," Eddie finally managed. "I went out with her friend…hmm…Claire…"

"Did you kiss her, Eddie? Did you put your tongue in her mouth?" asked Waylon. His hand on Eddie's crotch became more insistent. He gripped Eddie's length through his pants, feeling it harden under his touch. Waylon leaned in and began to pepper small kisses along Eddie's chin and jaw, relishing the delightful sounds and reactions the simple action could induce. "Did you slip a hand down her shirt?"

"Where are you going with this, darling?" asked Eddie. Despite his attempts to remain calm, Waylon's touch was affecting him immensely. Even though Waylon was younger and smaller than Eddie, Waylon had no trouble manipulating him. It was far too easy to get Eddie hot and bothered.

"I want you to get an erection whenever you think about these memories," said Waylon, trying to speak in a seductive voice, but failing. He soon dissolved into laughter and removed his hand. Eddie did not know how to react. He began to stand up, fixing his hair and smoothing out his shirt.

"It's not funny…"

"Of course it is! It's really too easy. You're too easy, Eddie. Then you try to claim you're not an old pervert," said Waylon.

"I'm not that old," protested Eddie. Waylon stood up and kissed Eddie's frowning lips. Eddie tried to remain calm and keep from overreacting to Waylon's prodding. He looked anywhere but at Waylon, avoiding his watchful eyes. It was difficult with Waylon practically hanging from his neck. Waylon would end up killing him one of these days.

"Don't get mad, darling," said Waylon, grinning. "Do you want me to show you what I brought from my house? It's something really nice." Waylon moved quickly and dug through his backpack. He convinced Eddie to turn off the television and move a coffee table out of the room to clear an area on the floor. They sat on the carpet, facing one another.

Waylon carried a couple of old records and a machine that resembled an old walkman only larger and bulkier. He delicately placed the machine on the ground and hooked up a pair of headphones. He leaned forward, holding them out toward Eddie.

"Okay. Don't think about anything while you listen to this. I want you to relax, feel the music, hear the words. Concentrate on nothing except the song," said Waylon, moving the appliance to sit beside Eddie. He carefully placed the headphones over Eddie's ears and switched on the record. The music began.

 _I'm closer to the Golden Dawn  
Immersed in Crowley's uniform  
Of imagery  
_  
 _I'm living in a silent film  
Portraying Himmler's sacred realm  
Of dream reality_

The music flowed, slow and smooth. Eddie could pick out the sound of a guitar, maintaining a steady pace during the first stanzas. Waylon placed both hands on Eddie's chest and pushed gently. Eddie slowly reclined until he was lying on the floor, and closed his eyes.

 _I'm frightened by the total goal  
Drawing to the ragged hole  
And I ain't got the power anymore  
No, I ain't got the power anymore  
_  
Eddie concentrated on the last part of the song and could not keep his thoughts from wandering. He was accustomed to having power and control, at all times, in every aspect of his life. But things had changed. He felt exposed and vulnerable, but also fascinated and excited. Waylon probably felt the same way, having never had a relationship like theirs. Before, Eddie would have objected to most of the things he and Waylon had done together, but in that moment everything seemed clear.  
 _  
I'm the twisted name  
on Garbo's eyes  
Living proof of  
Churchill's lies,  
I'm destiny_

I'm torn between the light and dark  
Where others see their targets,  
divine symmetry

Should I kiss the viper's fang?  
Or herald loud the death of Man

I'm sinking in the quicksand of my thought  
And I ain't got the power anymore

Eddie felt an extra weight on his hips. He opened his eyes and watched Waylon settle his body on top of him. Waylon was running his hands all over Eddie's chest, and his eyes were different than before. His face was an enigma. Waylon's eyes were serious, but there was a type of melancholy in their depths. Eddie could not fathom what could be going through Waylon Park's mind in that moment.

 _Don't believe in yourself,  
don't deceive with belief  
Knowledge comes with death's release  
_  
Waylon ended up with his body completely on top of Eddie's as he leaned down to nuzzle his face against Eddie's neck. His lips began trailing slow kisses along his neck. Eddie ran his hands up and down Waylon's back, down his sides, and down to grasp his ass. The headphones were dislodged during the movements, and Waylon set them on the floor out of the way. As they separated for breath, Waylon gazed down into Eddie's clear blue eyes that he hated and despised. Eyes that haunted his dreams.

Waylon loathed having to admit his feelings for Eddie, but it was something that could not be helped. Eddie meant a lot to Waylon. No one had ever looked at him the way Eddie did. No one had ever treated him so kindly. Despite all of Waylon's faults, despite his checkered past, despite his lack of education, despite his poor economic situation, and despite all the ways that they were different from each other. How could something like this exist in the real world?

"Do you think this will last?" Waylon asked again, the song was still ringing in the background from the headphones. Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around Waylon, trapping him against his body, refusing to let go. Never wanting to let go.

"Yes. I think this will last. You want to know why?" asked Eddie.

"Why do you think that, Eddie?"

"Because I like you—very much," said Eddie before his lips began kissing all over Waylon's face. His hand reached up to thread through Waylon's blond locks. Waylon was who he wanted. The person he craved.

Defining a relationship was never easy, and Eddie feared he would get carried away with the situation. But he wanted to get carried away with Waylon. He wanted to enjoy their time together, learn more things about him, and explore things he would never imagine experiencing before. Eddie knew that he was no longer in control of the situation, and most likely never would be again. He still wanted it.

"I want to lose control with you, even if you call me old, or try to make me feel ashamed. I want to laugh with you, and I want you to confide in me about your day. I want to text you 'good morning' and also 'good night.' I want you to be irritated with my outdated mannerisms. I want to know all about the things you love, the things you hate…Really, I just want you beside me."

"And what would we be then, Eddie?" Waylon asked, keeping his eyes hidden behind lowered lashes. The mixture of feelings in the pit of his stomach was something he had never experienced before. He did not lift his eyes, hiding his face. Eddie kissed Waylon's hair soft, causing him to smile at the gesture.

"I want you to be my boyfriend. That is what I want," said Eddie. The words seemed to echo in Waylon's disbelieving ears. This man actually enjoyed his company that much? Everything seemed surreal.

Waylon lifted his head, pressing his face close to Eddie's. Eddie could feel his breath hitting his face, enjoying how perfectly their bodies fit together.

"You want me beside you, Eddie? Even when I'm rebellious, stupid, insecure…even if I'm total crap at relationships…"

"Do not say such ugly things, darling. Do not tear yourself down," Eddie said, one of his hands coming up to gently cup Waylon's face, pushing aside one of his unruly locks in the process.

Eddie knew he would always cherish the expression on Waylon's face during that moment. Even if Waylon left him sometime in the future, Eddie would never forget. Waylon was not the only one experiencing uncertainty at that time.

"I am boring. Very boring. I think I would not have ever met you if it were not for Frank's insistence, although I would never admit that to him. I can not understand why you would agree to go out with me or how you could let me get involved in your life. Sometimes I think you only stay with me out of pity…"

"Don't be stupid, Eddie," Waylon blurted out, putting his finger over Eddie's mouth to keep him from talking. He leveled a look of pure annoyance at Eddie, effectively silencing him.

"So, I guess we are just a couple of people, stupid in love, huh?"

"So it seems, darling," said Eddie. Waylon sighed. He did not know anything about having a serious relationship. How hard could it be? Eddie looked at him expectantly. He took Waylon's hand and rubbed his fingers gently, staring into his eyes. There was no resistance that time.

"Then I guess I'm going to be your boyfriend, and we can see where this thing goes in the future" said Waylon.

"Sounds reasonable," said Eddie, grabbing Waylon by the hip and quickly moving him until his body was beneath him. He initiated a slow kiss and Waylon managed to throw his arms around Eddie's neck. Waylon closed his eyes and got lost in the warmth and feel of Eddie's body on top of him.

Ultimately, they both lost control in that moment.

* * *

 **Notes:** This makes me happy that everyone is happy xD. I have no idea where I get all these ideas really. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do :3

 **Translator's Notes:** Still plugging along in between other projects! This story is so cute!


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